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A Woman’s No 


By 

Mrs. H. Lovett Cameron 

Author of 




“A Man’s Undoing,*' “Two Cousins and a Castle,** Etc., Etc. 



New York: 

F. M. BUCKLES & COMPANY 
9 and ii East Sixteenth Street 

LONDON— JOHN LONG 
1902 


THE LIBRARY OF 
: CONGRESS, 


; 1902 

A CoPVmOHT FNTRV 

^ / "i-. ic^ ol-? 

CTASS CV XXa No.j 

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COPY B. 1 


Copyright, 1902, by 
F. M. Buckles & Company 


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CONTENTS. 


CHAPTEI^ PAGE 

I. The Two Houses 7 

II. A Skein of Wool 16 

III. Lord Mannering’s Destiny 25 

IV. Dinner at Strathendale 34 

V. Unhappy Lovers 43 

VI. The Quarrel 54 

VII. A Proposal 62 

VIII. Dick’s Appointment 71 

IX. Hester at Strathendale 77 

X. A Cluster of Nuts 81 

XL Lord Wilmerton’s Gout 91 

XH. The Inmates of Orchard Grange 100 

XIH. Ida’s Despair 110 

XIV. The Lennan Stepping-Stones 120 

XV. How Ida Slept at the Cottage, 127 

XVI. Spirited Away 135 

XVH. Gertrude’s Photograph Album 143 

XVIH. A November Walk 152 

XIX. Dick in London. 161 

5 


6 


Contents. 


CHAPTER PAGE 

XX. A Stormy Scene 169 

XXL A Love Tryst 177 

XXII. Lord Mannering’s Proposition 186 

XXIII. Ida’s Illness 195 

XXIV. What Mr. Greythorne thought of It 202 

XXV. An Elopement 211 

XXVI. News in Eaton Square 220 

XXVII. The Bride’s Toothache 230 

XXVIII. Gertrude Tracy’s Cards 240 

XXIX. At Charing Cross 250 

XXX. How Ida got Better 259 

XXXI. The Altered Will 268 

XXXII. Hester’s Despair 277 

XXXIII. By the Lennan Again, 286 


A WOMAN’S NO- 


CHAPTER I. 

THE TWO HOUSES. 

A BIG house on the south bank and a little house 
upon the north bank, and between them the river 
dimpling and glittering in the sunshine. Not a south- 
country river, mind you — sluggish of current and 
smooth of surface, thick and muddy with the ooze of 
its bed, and half-choked with the juicy-stemmed water- 
plants amongst which it drones its lazy way ; not a 
river like that — but a real north-country stream, clear 
and sparkling, brown with the peat off which it has 
arisen, and crisped and curdled into hundreds of little 
whirlpools and crests of creamy foam; tumbling its 
noisy way, now amongst great gray-brown boulders 
with a roar like distant thunder — now over sloping 
rapids and shining white pebbles in a thousand minia- 
ture cascades, Avith a fresh, brisk chatter of its own 
that does one positive good to listen to. 

Such is the River Lennan, with the big house on one 
side of it and the little house on the other. 

There is no bridge to connect the two, not for three 
miles. Some way up stream — that is to say, a mile and 
a half above the houses — just beyond the wide salmon- 

7 


8 


A Woman's No. 


pool that, needless to say, belongs to the big house and 
not to the little one, there is a ford that in summer 
time, when the water is low, is quite passable and safe 
for carriages and horses ; but which in winter, and in 
times of flood, is neither the one nor the other. And 
just below the great mass of rocks, over which the 
water comes so noisily rushing and tumbling, there are 
some stepping-stones — slippery enough and far apart 
from each other — but over which the country people 
go backwards and forwards quickly and nimbly. The 
young people, too, from the houses on either side, have 
been long in the habit of braving the dangers of the 
uncertain and difiicult foothold ; but no sane person 
past early youth would be rash enough to risk an im- 
mersion in the waters of the Lennan by venturing his 
or her unaccustomed feet upon them. These soberer 
spirits prefer to go round by road three miles to the 
nearest bridge. 

Miss Ida Greythorne lived in the big house, which 
rejoiced in the imposing title of Strathendale Castle ; 
and Dick Forrester lived in the little house, which 
was commonly designated by the very unimposing one 
of ‘ The Cottage.’ Now, had Dick lived at Strathen- 
dale Castle, and Ida at The Cottage, the course of true 
love would have run placidly smooth, all would have 
gone merry as a marriage bell, and this veracious his- 
tory would never have been written. 

Things had, however, been arranged otherwise. 

Dick Forrester was the third son in a family of seven 
children. His father was a retired Indian colonel, who 
had unfortunately lost the whole of his savings in the 
failure of a Bombay Bank. A comparatively small 


The Two Houses. 


9 


pension and his wife’s settlement had been all that had 
been saved out of the general ruin. With this, Colonel 
and Mrs. Forrester began life afresh in England. They 
took the cottage on the hanks of the Lennan because 
it was low-rented, and there they proceeded to bring 
up their sons and daughters, striving honestly to give 
them as good an education as they could afford, and to 
teach them to fight their own way in the world. 

So far the worthy couple had been singularly for- 
tunate in their children. Margaret, the eldest, had 
gone into a clergyman’s family as governess, and had 
speedily married the clergyman’s curate, who happened 
to be also his nephew, and who shortly after his mar- 
riage was presented to a living. Roland and Bertram 
had got upon the foundation of a military college in- 
tended for the sons of poor officers, and had by dint of 
hard work and industry been translated thence into 
the Indian srmy, where they were both now serving 
with their regiments. Dick was reckoned the clever 
one of the family. He had lately, with no exertion to 
himself and scarcely any application, come through 
a very difficult examination with fiying colors, and he 
was now at home doing nothing, waiting for an ap- 
pointment to the Indian Civil Service ; for Colonel 
Forrester’s interest for his sons was naturally all in 
India. 

The news of this appointment, his father hoped for, 
and his mother trembled for, by every morning’s post. 
As to the rest of the family, Hester was twenty-three, 
and her mother’s right hand ; and the three remaining 
boys, all much younger — aged fourteen, twelve, and 
ten — ^were doing fairly well at a small school, where 


10 


A Woman's No. 


a cheap but sound education was being painfully 
drummed into them. 

Dick Forrester had never had a whole five-pound 
note of his own to bless himself with in his life, but 
then he had no expensive habits — ^he neither smoked, 
nor shot, nor hunted — not because he had not the in- 
clination for these things, but because he had never 
had the money for them, and his father had early in- 
stilled into him that rare quality of self-control, with- 
out which the cleverest and the most amiable young 
man is pretty certain to make shipwreck of his life. 

Dick possessed this valuable quality to an eminent 
degree. He was philosophical, too. He knew that he 
was a poor man, and he did not make himself miser- 
able by hankering after the pleasures of a rich one. 
He was not unduly distressed because his clothes were 
not made by a fashionable tailor, or because he pos- 
sessed no single object in the wide world of the 
slightest intrinsic value, and no other jewelry save 
an old silver hunting- watch that had belonged to his 
grandfather. 

Such were the worldly circumstances of the young 
gentleman who lived upon the north bank of the 
Lennan. 

Let us now turn to the young lady who resided 
upon the south side thereof. 

Ida Greythorne was an only child, and an heiress. 
She received habitually an allowance of two hundred 
a year as pocket-money, to fritter away in any manner 
she chose. Her dresses were more usually of silk or 
velvet than of cotton or serge ; or if they were of cot- 
ton they were so profusely trimmed with yards and 


The Two Houses. 


n 


yards of real lace as to make them quite as costly as 
if they had been of a richer material. She owned a 
riding-horse of her own, and a groom was told off to 
her special service. She possessed also a pair of chest- 
nut ponies that stepped up to their noses, and a little 
phaeton to drive them in, that was the despair and 
envy of all her friends. She had as many diamonds 
as a dowager-duchess, and as much old lace as would 
half stock an old curiosity shop; and she had never 
in her whole life, ever since the days when she first 
began to toddle alone, expressed a desire to possess 
or to do any single thing that the desire had not been 
instantly gratified. 

Now all this would not have signified in the very 
least to Dick Forrester had Miss Greythorne been 
gifted by nature with sandy hair and a yellow com- 
plexion — ^had her eyes been small and insignificant, 
her mouth wide and gaping, and her figure short and 
stumpy. 

Dick very often wished that this had been the case. 
But, alas ! for this poor young man’s peace of mind, 
Ida Greythorne was a very different-looking young 
lady. She had eyes as deep and blue as ever wiled a 
man’s heart away ; a skin clear and pale, with just a 
rose tint upon her soft cheeks, and the bloom of a red 
carnation upon her full, pouting lips, and hair red- 
brown and wavy, with a dash of gold upon it where 
the sunshine caught its clustering richness. And then 
her figure ! There was no one in all the countryside 
with such a lithe young figure as Ida’s ! no one whose 
step upon the moorside was so swift and active ; no 
one who was so straight and slim, and yet with so 


12 


A Woman's No. 


delicate a perfection of every feminine outline. In 
point of fact, Miss Greythorne was a very lovely girl ; 
and when she was nineteen, Dick Forrester — who had 
played with her as a pretty child ever since she was 
ten years old and he was sixteen ; who had often 
carried her on his back across the stepping-stones, who 
had mended her dolls and gathered nuts for her from 
the topmost branches ; who had taught her dog to beg, 
and had helped her many a time to escape from her 
governess and her lessons — Dick Forrester suddenly 
forgot the old terms he had been on with his little 
playfellow, and fell as madly and desperately in love 
with her as though she had been a new and wonderful 
revelation to him. 

It was after she came back from her first season in 
London that this great and wonderful change took 
place in his feelings to her. She came back, as was 
natural, a little altered. She had been courted, and 
flattered, and made love to, and she held her pretty 
head a little higher and a little more sedately in con- 
sequence. She was more womanly, and less disposed 
to go tearing and romping all over the place with 
poor old Dick,” as she still called him in her thoughts, 
as of old. Besides which, there had been sundry 
lectures from mamma. 

Now, if there was a proud woman upon the face of 
the earth it was Ida’s mother — Lady Cressida Grey- 
thorne. Lady Cressida was a younger daughter of the 
late Earl of Denton, and she was as proud of her 
aristocratic origin as though creation had been solely 
created for herself and her august family. 

I do not mean that she was vulgar or ostentatious ; 


The Two Houses. 


13 


she did not talk about her relations, nor boast most 
about her money and her connections. She was indeed 
kind and courteous to all her smaller neighbors ; but 
underlying her courtesy there was a fixed convic- 
tion in her own mind that class should not mingle with 
class, and that a daughter of an aristocratic house 
should never lower herself to an equality with those 
whose blood was less blue than her own, and whose 
ancestry was insignificant and unknown. 

She had been always kind, though perhaps never 
actually cordial, to Colonel Forrester and his family, 
and as long as Ida was a child she had made no objec- 
tion to the young Forresters as playfellows for her ; 
but now that she was grown up, and had been through 
her first season, and had had her first insight of the 
world and its realities, it was time she considered to 
put a check upon the freedom of the intercourse. 

There had been a few words of warning from the 
mother to her daughter on the way up to the north 
in the train. 

Ida, you will understand, I dare say, that it will 
not do for you to be romping about the country with 
the young Forresters now you are no longer a child,” 
said Lady Cressida. 

There is only Hester at home, and Dick,” observed 

Ida. 

“ It was Dick, as you call him, whom I specially 
meant,” answered her mother. « Hester is a very good 
young woman. I wish, by the way, you would speak 
of her brother as Mr. Richard Forrester.” 

‘‘Oh, mamma, as if I could cried Ida, and burst 
out laughing. “ How ridiculous it would sound when 


14 


A Woman's No. 


we have known each other all our lives ! Why, I 
could never do it ! ” 

“ Very well. I dare say you would find it difficult ; 
I will say no more about that, but I must beg that you 
restrict your intimacy with him. Remember that you 
are a young lady now, and that your rank in life is 
altogether different from his ; and I don’t think Lord 
Mannering will at all like it, when he comes up to stay 
with us, if you are always out with that young man.” 

' “ What has Lord Mannering to do with it ? ” said 
Ida, coloring a little and shifting herself uneasily in 
her corner of the railway carriage. 

Lady Cressida smiled. 

‘‘ My dear, I don’t pretend to understand the ways 
of your admirers ; but to return to Mr. Dick Forrester ; 
it is very certain that you will do him a great injury 
if you give him the slightest cause to fancy that you 
have any preference for him above others.” 

Then Ida colored very much. 

“ Pray do not say any more about it, mamma. I hope 
that I have too true a sense of my own dignity to 
allow any man to imagine that I have a preference 
for him. Of course, as you say quite rightly, I am 
no longer a child, and I shall be certain to remember it 
when I am in Dick’s society.” 

Then Miss Ida opened her novel and concealed her 
face behind its sheltering pages, until Lady Cressida, 
following the example of her spouse in the farther 
corner of the carriage, had sunk into a gentle doze. 

So Miss Greythorne met her old playfellow with, 
a demure little smile and a stiff How do you do, 
Dick ? ” that told him at once that she had crossed the 


The Two Houses. 


15 


border-line where childhood and womanhood meet ; 
and Dick, with that perversity of human nature which 
is the ruin of most of us in matters of the heart, in- 
stantly discovered that she was not only a woman but 
a goddess, and his own divinity in particular, and 
that he worshiped and adored her with all his strength. 

All the outward expression, however, he gave to 
these sudden and ardent feelings was that his sunburnt 
face flushed a little warmer through the tan of his 
cheeks, and that he found no reasonable words where- 
with to answer her formal greeting. He only stuffed 
his hands into his pockets and looked down at his boots 
in a shy and awkward manner. 

Ida was vexed. She had seen a good many men 
lately — handsome, fashionable men of the world — who 
never looked shy or awkward, and who were never at 
a loss what to say. It just passed through her mind 
to contrast Dick with them. 

Dick is just as handsome, and oh ! fifty times as 
clever ! ” she said to herself. But how stupid a man 
looks when he stares at his boots and says nothing ! ” 

And she felt so thoroughly annoyed with him that she 
almost turned her back upon him, and began talking to 
her mother about some of their London acquaintances. 

Dick went away presently, humbled and abashed. 

‘‘ She is altered,” he said to himself sadly. She has 
turned into a fine lady, and she does not care for her 
old friends any longer ; but for all that she is the most 
lovely and lovable creature on the face of the earth, 
and if I cannot marry her in spite of all her money, I 
declare I will never marry any other woman in the 
world ! ” 


CHAPTER II. 


A SKEIN OF WOOL. 

« Mother, do you know that Dick has been over to 
Strathendale every single day this week ? ” 

The speaker was Hester Forrester, and she stood by 
the open window in the little drawing-room at The 
Cottage, and looked across over the valley to where the 
towers of Strathendale Castle, half buried amidst an- 
cient and lordly trees, shone white in the morning 
sunshine. 

‘‘ Every single morning since they have been home 
Dick has gone there,” repeated Hester, slowly and 
meaningly. 

She was a very tall girl, and dark, as all the Forres- 
ters were — ^liair so dusky as to be almost jet black, and 
eyes of the deepest brown, shaded by long black lashes 
that swept the olive tints of her brunette cheek. For 
those who admire dark women — and they are legion — 
Hester Forrester, with her gipsy-like swarthiness 
and her almost regal bearing, was a very beautiful 
woman. 

For a wonder she was idle — her hands, large, and a 
trifle browner than would have been those of a town- 
bred girl, were crossed before her, empty and inactive. 
That was a rare thing with Hester. 

Her mother, hard at work in the room behind her, 
was stooping over a table covered with yards of calico. 

i6 


A Skein of Wool. 


17 


She was cutting out a set of shirts for one of the 
schoolboys, and the snip-snap of her big scissors was 
the only sound to be heard until Hester made that ob- 
servation concerning Dick’s visits to Strathendale. 

Then Mrs. Forrester looked up with a slight flush. 
Dear as were all her children to her, it was Dick who 
came the nearest to her heart. The slightest imputa- 
tion against him was enough to set her pulses beating 
indignantly. 

And why shouldn’t Dick go to Strathendale ? ” she 
asked quite sharply. Has he not always gone there 
as much as he wanted ? I cannot see what there is to 
find fault with him in it.” 

‘‘Oh! mother, you must see how undesirable it is 
now, for every reason,” said her daughter, turning 
round to her. “ If Dick and Ida were to fall in love 
with each other — ” 

“Well, and what if they did? Is not my son good 
enough, and clever enough, for any woman ? ” 

“ But think of the difference between them ! You 
must know that Mr. Greythorne and Lady Cressida 
would never, never allow her to marry Dick ; and if he 
goes there so often she may get fond of him. And 
surely, under the circumstances, it would be quite dis- 
honorable of Dick to try and gain her affections.” 

“ My dear, you are a young woman, and you know 
very little of the ways of the world. Be good enough 
to leave to your brother the care of his honor — he is 
quite equal to it ; and are you not coming to cut out 
these gussets for me ? ” 

Hester moved slowly to the table, took up her scissors 
with a sighj and resumed her task hi silence. 

3 


i8 


A Woman's No. 


Mrs. Forrester looked displeased, and Hester felt 
that her word of warning was worse than thrown away 
But although, as her mother had said, she was young, 
and Mrs. Forrester was old, it was the young woman 
who knew the world the best, and whose words had 
been the wisest. 

Meanwhile, across the valley, Dick Forrester sat at 
his divinity’s feet and courted his fate. It was in Lady 
Cressida’s morning-room, and she herself sat writing 
her letters at her davenport. 

Behind her, on a low sofa, was Ida, in the airiest and 
daintiest of summer gossamer garments, all lace and 
white muslin and pale blue ribbons. She was winding 
some scarlet worsted ; and Dick, literally at her feet, 
sat on a low stool by the side of her sofa, holding the 
skein on his big, brown, awkward hands. 

How Hester would have laughed at him if she had 
been there ! — Dick, whose “ fingers were all thumbs ” 
in household parlance at The Cottage ! What a never- 
dying joke it would have been to them all at home had 
they seen him ! 

But there was nothing ludicrous or laughable to 
Dick himself in the situation. Ida had told him to 
make himself useful, and she had wound the bright 
wool with her soft, small fingers over his big hands — 
he would have sat there till doomsday at her bidding ! 

As she wound, he looked up adoringly into her face 
with all his love in his dark eyes ; and Ida, who was a 
young woman of the world, and knew quite well what 
those looks meant, for all her self-possession and her 
saucy knowledge of her own power, could not manage to 
raise her blue eyes for more than half a second to his. 


A Skein of Wool. 


19 


She wound her wool and looked down at the little ball 
in her fingers, and she smiled, and nodded, and talked to 
him all about nothing ; whilst Dick did not smile at all 
and hardly took his eyes off her face, longing with all 
his heart that the skein might last forever. 

And Lady Cressida, sitting at her davenport, heard 
every word that they uttered, and found nothing to 
censure in their conversation ; but her back was turned 
to them, and she could not see their faces, and she had 
forgotten — it was so long ago since any one had made 
love to her — how completely the process may be gone 
through in the lightning glances between two pairs of 
eyes, with very little extraneous assistance. 

There was nothing to find fault with in this kind of 
thing, for instance : 

I am going to drive the ponies over to Raeburn 
this afternoon. Do you think Hester would care to go 
with me if I call for her ? ” 

‘‘ I should think so — anybody would if they had the 
chance.” 

“ Well, it’s very good of Hester, because she is so 
much older than I am. I am not twenty yet, you 
know — ” 

Not till the twelfth of October,” says Dick, quickly. 

How well you remember ! Do you recollect my 
thirteenth birthday, when we picnicked on the big fiat 
stone in the middle of the Lennan — the year the water 
was so low ? ” 

“ Of course I recollect it ; and you took off your 
shoes and stockings to paddle, and you cut your foot 
with a sharp stone — your dear little foot ! ” 

This last was added very low indeed, so that it was 


20 


A Woman^s No. 


inaudible even to Lady Cressida’s sharp ears ; and Miss 
Grey thorne was quite silent for a minute or two, bend- 
ing over a tangle in her worsted. 

“ I remember your birthday too, perfectly, Dick,” says 
Ida, presently, just because it is so awkward to be 
stared at fixedly and to say nothing. “ It is the ninth 
of April. Do you recollect the tortoise-shell pocket- 
knife I gave you one birthday — I think it must have 
been your sixteenth ? What a silly thing to give a big 
boy — it was more fit for a girl’s workbox.” 

I have got it now,” says Dick, reverentially. 

‘‘ Have you ! you must have taken great care of it. 
I was rather in hopes you might have lost it, because 
they say if you give a person a knife it cuts love.” 

Here there occurs an ominous rustling of Lady Cres- 
sida’s silken skirts, and Ida adds, hurriedly, — 

“ Of course that’s all nonsense though, because you 
and I are just as good friends as ever, and shall be al- 
ways, I hope, sha’n’t we ? ” 

Dick sighs gloomily. To a lover who aspires to every- 
thing, the prospect of being ‘‘ good friends always ” is 
not exactly exhilarating. 

“Won’t you come soon and have a day on the river 
with me, like old times ? ” he pleaded presently. “ Do 
you remember the pool where we used to paddle, and 
catch sticklebacks in our pocket-handkerchiefs, and hunt 
for filmy ferns in the crevices of the wet rocks ? and the 
big boulder overhanging the salmon pool where we 
used to eat our sandwiches ? Do let us take our lunch 
out and have a day like that again ? ” 

“ Oh, Dick ! ” cried Ida, laughing, “ fancy a man of 
your age wanting to paddle and catch sticklebacks and 


A Skein of Wool. 


21 


hunt for ferns with a girl ! You had much better ask 
papa to let you have a day’s salmon fishing in the pool.’’ 

“I had far rather potter about with you,” replied 
Dick, earnestly. “ Do come — I Avill bring some lunch 
in a basket and we can sit and talk — it’s so jolly in the 
shade with the river swishing by. You might manage 
to come just once for old time’s sake ! ” 

‘‘ It sounds very tempting,” said Ida, dubiously. 

She was weighing in her mind whether sitting on a 
rock in the river with Dick Forrester came correctly 
under the category of that ‘‘ romping about the country ’’ 
with him which she had promised to abjure ; she gave 
one hurried glance of apprehension at the maternal 
back — it was broad and tranquil, and utterly unimpas- 
sive. 

‘‘ I think I will,” she said, lowering her voice just a 
very little. I should like it so much — but it can’t be 
this week, because there are so many things mamma 
wants me to do — ^but next week if the weather is fine.” 

“ Pray make no engagements for next week, Ida,” 
interrupts Lady Cressida’s clear, cold voice. Remem- 
ber that the Tempests arrive on Monday, and Lord 
Mannering comes on Tuesday — ^you will have quite 
enough to do in entertaining your guests.” 

The skein of wool is just finished, and Dick draws 
himself on his footstool just a few inches farther away 
from her sofa, with a distinct frown upon his brow. 

‘‘ Who is Lord Mannering ? One of your swell new 
London friends, I suppose ? ” 

All the instinct of jealousy is awake within him at the 
bare mention of the name. Your true lover is always 
jealous — no man, and few women, ever love without it. 


22 


A Woman's No. 


Ida drew her small head up proudly. 

“ He is certainly a new friend,” she said coldly, but 
I have really never considered whether he is what you 
call ‘ swell ’ or not.” 

She was her mother’s child after all. 

“ Now I have made you angry,” said poor Dick, rue- 
fully. 

‘‘ Oh, dear no, not at all,” answered Ida, carelessly, 
getting up from the sofa and shaking out her soft white 
skirts, only I never allow any friend I like to be 
sneered at.” 

‘‘ And you like this — Lord Something or other, I sup- 
pose ? You call him your friend ? ” 

“ Certainly I do — I like him very much. And now, 
Dick, I must really leave you and mamma to entertain 
each other — I have never even fed my bullfinch to-day, 
and Clothilde must have been waiting more than an 
hour to try on my new dress.” 

‘‘ Oh, I must be going too,” says Dick, grumpily, tak- 
ing no notice of her outstretched hand, but turning 
round to look for his hat on the table behind him. 

Oh, dear me, must you go, Dick ! ” cries Lady Cres- 
sida, quite gushingly. When Ida snubs him her lady- 
ship can well afford to be gracious. “ I hoped you would 
have stayed to lunch — no ? then I won’t press you to- 
day. Mr. Greythorne would have been so pleased ! I 
hope you will come over next week and have a day’s 
fishing or shooting with the men who are coming to 
stay with us ? We shall be so glad if you will join 
them. No news of your appointment yet, I suppose ? 
I am so sorry, it must be weary work for you waiting 
at home doing nothing — I know a clever young man 


A Skein of Wool. 


23 

like you must hate to be idle. Give my love to your 
mother. I’m so sorry you can’t stay and limch.” 

Good-bye, Dick,” Ida said softly behind him, and 
held out her little white flower of a hand timidly; 
but Dick pretended not to see it — it dropped down 
again by her side, as she slipped away from the room 
whilst her mother was still finishing her farewell 
remarks. 

Dick felt that he was brutal to her, but he did not 
mind that; he was so angry with her that he was 
rather glad of it than otherwise. He walked away 
down the hill from the Castle towards the stepping- 
stones, slashing savagely at the trees and the grass 
with his stick as he walked. 

What is the use of my shaking hands with her and 
pretending ’ to be just as usual when I am not ? ” he 
said to himself, angrily. Why did she go on about 
that fellow of a lord, whom I suppose her mother wants 
her to marry, pretending she liked him, and calling 
him her friend! Friend^ indeed! he will soon see 
vrhat sort of friend I will be to him ! She might have 
given me just a look or a smile to show me it was all 
right, and then I shouldn’t have been jealous ; but no, 
she must needs toss her head and call him her friend ! 
Oh ! I am very glad I wouldn’t take her hand. Sweet 
little hand ! how I should like to cover it with kisses ! 
Oh ! my darling, my beautiful darling ! I wonder if 
there is the faintest hope in heaven and earth for 
me ! ” 

And here poor Dick, having reached the riverside, 
and being, as he imagined, secure from all observation, 
flung himself down by the waters of the Lennan, and 


24 


A Woman's No. 


groaned all his trouble aloud into the calm and friendly 
bosom of his mother earth. 

But there was just one window at Strathendale 
Castle from which this particular spot was still visible, 
and that was the window of Ida’s own bedroom. 

A long time had Mademoiselle Clothilde, the French 
lady’s-maid, to wait for her young mistress this morn- 
ing, and very hungry and thirsty did Bully become 
before he received his fresh seed and water. 

Ida was leaning out of her window watching Dick 
Forrester’s departing form across the park ; she could 
tell by the way he strode along, striking right and left 
with his stick, how angry he was. 

“ It was cruel of him not to shake hands — ^horribly 
cruel ! ” she said to herself, indignantly. ‘‘ I said noth- 
ing so very dreadful ; he need not have gone away in 
anger like that,” and the spoilt heiress, whose lightest 
word had always been law to those about her, was 
actually in tears because Dick Forrester, ‘‘ from The 
Cottage,” had been harsh to her. 

And then she saw him reach the riverside and fall 
down with his face upon his arms, and she knew that 
he must be very unhappy. 

“ Oh ! poor Dick ! — poor Dick ! ” she cried, trem- 
blingly, “ how I wish I dared run down and comfort 
him ! ” and all her womanly heart went out in compas- 
sion to the man whose love she had wounded. But she 
did not venture to go out after him, for there was her 
mother ; and besides, was she not Miss Greythorne of 
Strathendale, in whom such forward conduct would be 
highly unbecoming ! 


CHAPTER III. 


LORD MANNEKING’S DESTINY. 

The express train was flying rapidly northwards, 
bearing to the banks of the Lemian one of the principal 
actors in my story. A man, tall and slight — so slight 
as to suggest physical weakness — leant back, half asleep, 
in the corner of the railway carriage. He was very 
fair, with hair and mustache that were almost flaxen, 
and his face was thin, and somewhat pale, but there 
was a certain amount of intellectual power in the high 
forehead ; and a permanent sadness about the lines of 
of the eyes and mouth rendered the face an interesting 
one even to a casual observer. 

There was one other person in the carriage, an elderly 
lady, who by her very striking likeness to her compan- 
ion, might be recognized at a glance to be his mother. 
Tall and thin like her son, there was yet in the old 
lady’s face a vitality and an energy that were lacking in 
the young man’s. Her restless, eager eyes were full of 
life. His, on the contrary, although they resembled 
hers in form and color, were languid and dreamy, and 
full of faint, dim fancies and visions, that had nothing 
to do with the practical concerns of this world. 

Whilst the train rushed on with a ceaseless roar, the 
son was dreaming vaguely— the mother was planning 
actively. 

Florian, are you asleep ? ” she said presently. 

2S 


26 A Woman's No. 

‘‘ No, mother,” rousing himself a little ; not ex- 
actly.” 

‘‘ Then, my dear, talk to me a little bit. We must 
be nearly at Crayfirth Junction, where you and I have 
to part. We are due there in twenty minutes.” 

Lord Mannering consulted his watch. 

“Yes, in twenty minutes, I should say. Well, 
mother ? ” 

“ My dear, I hope you understand the importance of 
this visit to Strathendale ? ” 

The young man stretched his arms up over his head, 
and stifled a yawn. 

“ Is it important ? Well, yes, I daresay it is.” 

“Your having accepted Lady Cressida’s invitation 
to go there is, after the attentions which you paid to 
her daughter during the season, tantamount to propos- 
ing to her.” 

“ By Jove ! ” — with a slight animation — “ do you 
think so?” 

“ Of course I think so. Miss Greythorne’s parents 
will think so — she herself. There cannot be the 
smallest doubt in their minds concerning your in- 
tentions.” 

“ By Jove ! ” ejaculated his lordship again slowly. 
“ So I may consider myself booked at last ! ” 

“Is there any good reason why you should object to 
considering yourself ‘ booked,’ as you call it ? ” in- 
quired his mother, with some sharpness. 

Lord Mannering made a slight grimace, and then he 
laughed. 

“ No. I suppose it must have come sooner or later,” 
he answered. 


Lord Mannering's Destiny. 27 

‘‘ Surely, Florian, you can find no fault with so charm- 
ing a girl as Ida Greythorne ! ” cried his mother, im- 
patiently. Satiated and hlase as you are, even you 
must see what a treasure of a wife she will be to any 
man ! ” 

“ My dear mother, I assure you I am far from de- 
preciating Miss Greythorne.” 

‘‘ She has beauty, family, and money.” 

‘‘ Quite true.” 

‘‘ She is well brought up ; her manners are charm- 
ing.” 

“ Without doubt.” 

“ You seemed to like her extremely.” 

“I do.” 

And she seems quite devoted to you.” 

Hum ! ” rather more doubtfully. 

“ And, above all, your grandfather thoroughly ap- 
proves of her.” 

Lord Mannering’s grandfather was the Earl of Wil- 
merton. His father being dead, Florian was his grand- 
father’s heir. Lord Wilmerton was a strict and auto- 
cratic old gentleman, and there had been several inci- 
dents in his grandson’s career which he had anything 
but approved of, much to Lady Mannering’s annoyance, 
as upon her devoted head were usually poured out the 
full vials of grand-paternal indignation. 

There had been notably one instance, when the 
youthful Viscount Mannering, at the age of twenty, 
had returned from an Eastern tour, accompanied by a 
Persian lady of great beauty, but of obscure origin, 
who could converse in no respectable Christian lan- 
guage, but whom he had professed his fixed determi- 


28 


A Woman's No. 


nation of turning into Viscountess Mannering, with 
the least possible delay, according to the rites of the 
English Church. 

On that occasion Lord Wilmerton had, not unnatur- 
ally, been very irate indeed. There had been some 
frightful family scenes; and in the end the Persian 
lady had been sent off, under strong escort, back to her 
own country ; and the despairing lover, seeing that he 
could not help himself, recovered her loss with an 
amazing rapidity. 

But it was long before poor Lady Mannering heard 
the last of it. That wretched Persian woman was 
cast in her teeth for many a long year afterwards; 
and at every fresh delinquency committed by her well- 
beloved but somewhat eccentric son, the old man was 
in the habit of remarking to her, — 

‘‘Just what I should have expected! Your son, my 
lady, is a born idiot! Did anybody possessing two 
grains of common sense ever want to bring a jabbering 
Persian slave home to England in order to marry her ? ” 

And yet the dearest wish of the old man’s heart was 
to see his grandson suitably married before he died. 
He was particular, however, and none of the ladies to 
whom Florian had paid any slight preliminary atten- 
tions had hitherto met with his approbation. 

One was too tall, another was too short. Of a third 
he would say. What was the good of bringing him to 
look at a woman with a thick ankle ! Of a fourth, the 
pretty daughter of a wealthy manufacturer. Was it 
likely he was going to consent to a soap-boiler’s daugh- 
ter becoming a Countess of Wilmerton ! 

What a comfort it was, after so much difficulty, 


Lord Mannering's Destiny. 29 

that here, in the person of Ida Greythorne, was at last 
a young lady of whom the old earl grumblingly af- 
firmed that, as girls go, she wasn’t so bad, and that 
Florian had better marry her, as “ He might well do 
worse.” 

From that moment Lady Mannering was set upon 
the match. She had done all she could to bring the 
young people together in London ; and it was she who 
had urged her son to accept the invitation to Strathen- 
dale, which she meant to result in so much. 

I think, my dear, that you are bound to make Miss 
Greythorne an offer of marriage,” she said furthermore 
to him in the train. 

‘‘ Then I suppose it must be done,” was the not very 
enthusiastic answer. 

Lady Mannering got up and kissed her son on the 
forehead. She was not a demonstrative mother as a 
rule, but she felt that the occasion demanded some 
slight display of affection. 

‘‘You will have a very sweet and lovely wife, my 
dear boy, and one that I am persuaded you will have 
just cause to be proud of.” 

“ She is good-looking enough, but I never cared for 
fair women,” said the viscount. 

“ That is pure childishness,” answered his mother, 
coldly, resuming her seat. She had not forgotten that 
that horrible Persian creature had been dark as 
Erebus — only one degree removed, indeed, from being 
a hlach ! as she had told herself with disgust. 

Then came the junction where Lady Mannering had 
to get out, in order to travel on by a branch line to 
the house of some friends where she was going to pay 


30 


A Woman's No. 


a visit. Lord Mannering did all that was necessary in 
seeing his mother and her maid, and the luggage, 
safely across to another platform ; but there was no 
time for more private conversation, nor, indeed, could 
any have taken place, because of the maid. He parted 
from his mother and resumed his own seat, his train 
being the first to start again. He continued his 
journey northwards, and after an hour more of un- 
eventful traveling found himself and his valet, his 
portmanteau and his gun-case, safely landed upon the 
platform of the little station that was seven miles 
from Strathendale Castle. 

A groom came forward and touched his hat to him. 

“ Mr. Grey thorne thought you would like the dog- 
cart, my lord, as it’s such a fine evening ; and there’s 
a cart for your servant and luggage.” 

“ All right,” answered his lordship, laconically, and 
mounting the dog- cart he took the reins and drove 
swiftly away from the dust and heat of the railway 
into the cool, shady lanes, bordered with woods and 
fiecked by the warm glow of the August setting sun. 
Woods, rocks, distant moors purple with heatlier, 
tumbling, brawling streams, rabbits scuttling across 
the white road in front of him — it was a lovely country 
and a lovely road — and a more ardent lover than was 
Lord Mannering might have been excused for making 
but little haste to reach his lady-love’s presence, and 
for lingering delightedly upon so charming a road. 
As it was, he was in no hurry at all — ^he was not 
particularly anxious to gaze upon Ida’s lovely face — 
he knew she would be there whenever he arrived ; 
moreover, it was uncomfortable, he reflected, to reach 


Lord Mannering's Destiny. 31 

a place long before your luggage and your valet ; and 
the conveyance which bore these necessities of life 
was of course slower in traveling than the dog-cart, 
and was already some way behind. 

There was plenty of time before dinner-time — no 
occasion to hurry. So he allowed the horse to walk up 
all the hills, and to pursue but a very leisurely jog-trot 
in the flat intervals between them, as, with the eye of 
a keen lover of nature, he drank in the beauty of the 
country through which he was passing. 

Mannering was something of a poet — he had already 
published a small volume, entitled Songs and SonnetSj 
by an Idler^ that had created a furore of admiration 
amongst his women-friends, and one or two not un- 
favorable critiques — written by friends, of course — in 
the Society papers. Upon the strength of this maiden 
success he was meditating a more adventurous flight 
into the fields of poesy ; and already a description of 
the country through which he was driving struck him 
as holding out many inducements for a felicitous 
rendering of his opening cantos. 

By-and-by the Lennan itself came in sight — a whole 
sweep of its tumbled waters, with the steep, wooded 
banks on either side, and a distant peep of the purple 
moorland, whence its streams arose, beyond. Lord 
Mannering was enchanted by his first glimpse of the 
beautiful river. Mr. Greythorne’s groom could not 
imagine why the dog-cart was suddenly stopped short 
at the top of the hill, whilst his lordship gazed down 
enraptured for full five minutes upon the scene before 
him. 

He drove very slowly down the road that led to the 


32 


A Woman's No. 


level of the water-side. It is just at this place that 
the bridge crossed the river ; that is to say, three miles 
from Strathendale. And just as he reached the 
bridge, Lord Mannering perceived a female figure 
leaning over the parapet at the further side of it. A 
brown holland dress, a broad, shady straw hat, and a 
glittering silver buckle at her waist — that was all he 
could see at that distance ; but beyond all manner of 
doubt, what he saw told him that the solitary figure 
in the landscape was a lady. 

“ Can it be Ida come out to meet me ? ” he asked 
himself, and there was a distinct shade, not of pleasure, 
but of annoyance in his mind, as the idea presented 
itself to him. “ Ko, it is too tall for Ida,” he added, 
on further inspection. “ I wonder who she can be ! ” 

In another minute he was close to her. The lady 
leant with both elbows upon the parapet of the bridge, 
and looked down over the waters of the Lennan. She 
did not move nor turn her head at the sound of wheels 
behind her ; she seemed absorbed in the contemplation 
of the landscape before her. She was in reality so 
deeply buried in her own thoughts that in the tumult 
of the waters below she did not even hear the advan- 
cing dog-cart. 

All Lord Mannering could see of her — and he looked 
at her sharply — was a coil of dusky black hair at the 
nape of her neck ; a brown, well-shaped hand support- 
ing her cheek ; and a tall and graceful figure which, 
bent forward as it was against the bridge, displayed 
its perfections to full advantage. 

That was all he seemed destined to see of her, when 
a small and utterly unforeseen accident stepped in — 


33 


Lord Mannering’s Destiny. 

as such accidents sometimes do — and by its results 
altered the whole existence of Florian, Viscount 
Mannering. 

The dog-cart had already passed the motionless 
young lady upon the bridge, when a small boy, hither- 
to invisible, rising from the river-brink on the further 
side, flung up a handful of long wet reeds that he had 
been gathering upon the road. The bundle of brown 
water-plants — tied up together and collected for the 
urchin’s grandmother, who dealt in simple country 
drugs and nostrums, prepared by herself from herbs 
and water-plants, in whose virtues she believed — flung 
up over the side of the bridge, came flying down in front 
of the dog-cart. The horse shied violently, and then 
backed, and the wheels grazed up against the brown 
holland dress of the young lady upon the other side. 
A few cuts of the whip speedily restored the horse to 
a sense of his duty, the groom jumped down to his 
head, and Lord Mannering in one instant was by the 
side of the lady whom he had so unintentionally 
alarmed. 

“ I beg ten thousand pardons — I trust you are not 
hurt,” he began hurriedly. 

‘‘ Thank you, the wheel did not touch me — see it has 
only just soiled my dress — pray do not distress your- 
self,” and there smiled up at him the dark eyes of the 
most beautiful woman, thought Mannering, he had ever 
seen in his life. He had met his destiny ! 

3 


CHAPTER IV. 


DINNER AT STRATHENDALE. 

Mannering looked round the dinner- table at Strath- 
endale that evening with a distinct sense of disap- 
pointment. The party assembled at the castle was, 
nevertheless, a pleasant and cheery one. There were 
two Miss Tempests, friends of Ida’s, both pretty and 
both well dressed, with plenty of small talk always 
kept ready to hand suitable for any comer. There was 
a Yorkshire baronet and his wife. Sir James and Lady 
Hey wood — Sir James very fond of sport, and still more 
fond of talking about it ; and his wife, still young and 
attractive, and bent upon making herself agreeable — 
quite as ready to talk of the prospects of grouse with 
her host, who had taken her in to dinner, and who sat on 
her left, as to flirt with the good-looking young Guards- 
man, who sat upon her right. This gentleman, how- 
ever, a Captain de Crecy, had been told off to escort 
Ida, and thought himself too fortunate in his position 
to waste much attention upon Lady Hey wood and her 
smiles. There was also another young man, Mr. Law- 
ley, languid of manner and empty of soul, who had 
been consigned to the youngest Miss Tempest, the 
eldest being in charge of Sir James Hey wood. Lord 
Mannering had of course taken in his hostess, and the 
fortunes of the table had placed the second Miss Tem- 
pest on his other side. Laura Tempest was as full 
34 


Dinner at Strathendale. 


35 


of energy as her companion was devoid of it — she had 
gentle enthusiasms about everything and everybody. 
She had often met Lord Mannering in town, and she 
was ready to chatter to him upon every conceivable 
subject in the most voluble manner. But she did not 
interest him at all. He only looked round the table, 
and felt that he had expected something that was not 
there. 

Florian had made up his mind, from the very mo- 
ment when his gaze had met those beautiful dark eyes 
belonging to the young lady in brown holland, whom 
he had so nearly run over in the dog-cart, that the 
owner of them must be one of the guests staying at 
Strathendale Castle. Why he should have fancied so, 
it is difficult to say, but we are all prone to imagine 
that things will turn out as we desire, and the wish, in 
this case, was father to the thought. He had arrived 
at his journey’s end in very good spirits, and had 
hurried over his toilet for dinner as much as that great 
functionary, his valet, would allow him to do, in order 
to be early in the drawing-room when the party assem- 
bled for dinner. Every time the door opened he looked 
sharply round, expecting to behold the entrance of the 
tall dark lady he had met upon the bridge ; and when 
the party — ten in all — was complete, and dinner was 
announced, and he was expected to give his arm to Lady 
Cressida, he could not help being unreasonably annoyed 
with his own folly for being so unaccountably disap- 
pointed. 

Then, of course, there was Ida, looking lovely, as he 
could not but own, in a pale cream-colored dress, that 
set off the exquisite fairness of her neck and arms — 


A Woman’s No. 


36 

she smiled. sweetly and pleasantly at him; and Lord 
Mannering, remembering suddenly what he had prom- 
ised his mother to do, recalled himself with an effort to 
a sense of his duty, and strove manfully to banish that 
dark-eyed vision from his thoughts. 

‘‘ How do you think Ida is looking ? ” whispered 
Lady Cressida to him as they sat down. 

“ Charming — perfect, of course, as she always does ! ” 
he answered heartily. 

“ I am so sorry I couldn’t manage to let her sit next 
to you,” she continued, smiling; “but of course it 
would not do.” There was an intimation of Lord 
Mannering having a right to the sole appropriation of 
Miss Greythorne in this speech which rather took his 
breath away — evidently the engagement was a foregone 
conclusion in Lady Cressida’s mind. “ Yes, the dear 
child has got all her roses back,” she continued con- 
fidingly “ I thought her looking very fagged and white 
at the end of the season, didn’t you ? ” 

Here Sir James Heywood called her ladyship’s at- 
ttotion to the alarming condition of salmon rivers 
generally, and of his own in particular ; and Miss 
Laura Tempest, who had been biding her time, dashed 
headlong into conversation with Lord Mannering, who, 
as she always told her friends, was “ such a dear ! and 
looked so delightfully romantic.” 

She rattled on for some minutes about every mutual 
London acquaintance they possessed. The men were 
all “ so nice ” and “ such dear fellows,” and the women 
were all delightful and lovely ; for to do Laura justice, 
although she gossiped freely about her neighbors, and 
did possibly a good deal of harm by senseless chatter- 


Dinner at Strathendale. 37 

ing about their affairs, she seldom abused them or said 
a spiteful word about them. 

It was quite enough for her that her companion 
answered ‘‘Yes” and “IMo” at stated intervals be- 
tween the mouthfuls of his fish and his cutlets ; but 
presently, following the bent of his own irrepressible 
thoughts, he interrupted her in the very middle of a 
long description of the fancy dress Lady Somebody 
wore at Lady Somebody Else’s ball, in which she had 
looked “ so sweet and charming — Mr. Farquahar said she 
was like a print out of some old book he had, an old 
novel, “ Evelina ” or “ Clarissa,” or something of that 
kind — that had a mob-cap, you know, and big curls, 
and he said that she — ” 

“ Is there no other young lady staying in the house ? ” 
asked Lord Mannering, suddenly. 

Laura Tempest stopped short in her animated de- 
scription, and stared at him. Lord Mannering was very 
eccentric and queer — dear odd creature, of course ; but 
still — well, in anybody else it would have been rather 
rude. Besides, she was astonished at his question. ^ 

“ Any other young lady,” she repeated slowly, “ stay- 
ing here ? — at Strathendale, do you mean ? There is only 
me and Alicia — ^that is, my sister — and Ida, of course ! 
Why, Lord Mannering ! ” — laughing merrily — “ how 
many more girls do you require? Are not three 
enough for you, and all determined to make much of 
you, too ? ” 

“ Of course — of course ! — certainly ! ” he answered 
rather confusedly. “ I only thought — I fancied, in fact, 
there was another ! The truth is I met a lady along 
the road outside the park, on my way here — a dark 


A Woman’s No. 


38 

young lady, tall and very handsome — and I took it into 
my head that she must be staying here. You don’t 
happen, I suppose, to know who she could be ? ” 

‘‘ Not in the very least. Miss Greythorne is the only 
very handsome young lady I have ever heard of up in 
these regions. Oh! Lady Cressida ” — bending sud- 
denly forward across the corner of the table towards 
their hostess — “do tell Lord Mannering who a tall, 
handsome, dark lady can be whom he met on his road 
from the station ! Who is the unknown beauty ? I 
feel quite anxious to know.” 

“ A tall, handsome, dark lady ! ” repeated Lady Cres- 
sida, wonderingly. “ I really don’t know ! Where did 
you meet her. Lord Mannering ? ” 

“ A little way up the road, on the bridge across the 
river.” 

Lady Cressida still shook her head as if she could not 
possibly guess ; and then Alicia Tempest, from the 
other side of the table, said, — 

“ Could it have been the girl from The Cottage, Lady 
Cressida ? Did not Ida say she was very dark ? ” 

Her ladyship made as though she had received a 
sudden revelation. 

“ Ah 1 ” she exclaimed — “ to be sure ! It must have 
been poor Hester Forrester, from The Cottage ! I de- 
clare I never thought of her ! She is, certainly, very 
dark — quite swarthy, in fact ! — though I am sure it is 
good of you to call her handsome. Lord Mannering ; 1 
certainly should not say she had much beauty, poor 
girl ! ” 

“ I think her singularly beautiful,” answered his lord- 
ship, with a fervor which he hi vain strove to conceal. 


Dinner at Strathendale. 39 

‘‘And pray, Lady Cressida, why do you call this young 
lady ‘ poor ’ ? ” 

Lady Cressida shrugged her shoulders carelessly, as 
though the topic was an utterly uninteresting one. 

“ Oh, I don’t know ! She is poor — they all are ! 
Her father is a retired Indian colonel, and his wife is a 
very worthy woman ; they have a large family, poor 
things, and hard work enough to make both ends meet. 
They are very good sort of people, the Forresters, in 
their way ; but of course they are not at all in our set.” 

Here Ida’s fresh young voice came from the other 
end of the table. 

‘‘ What are you saying about the Forresters, 
mamma ? Nothing but what is good, I hope ? They are 
the dearest people, all of them; and Hester is the 
oldest friend I have in the world.” 

Lord Mannering never liked Ida Greythorne so well 
as at that minute. 

‘‘ My dear,” answered her mother, rather sharply, 
“ of course I was saying no harm of them. They are 
very good people. I was only explaining to Lord Man- 
nering that they are not quite — well, not quite — ” 
They are quite — qicite good enough for me, mamma ! 
cried Ida, with a suddenly flushed face, and then Lord 
Mannering called out, — 

“ Quite right. Miss Greythorne ! Stick up for your 
friends ! I like people who do that ! ” 

Lady Cressida turned to him, all smiles. She quite 
forgave him for his incautiously-expressed admiration 
of Hester Forrester. 

“ That is so like dear Ida ! She is so generous, and 
so affectionate — she cannot bear a word spoken against 


40 


A Woman's No. 


these young people, because they all played with her 
when they were little children ; of course, being such 
near neighbors, it was natural the young ones should 
be together a great deal ; and now dear Ida cannot 
quite see how different things are. But it is a fault 
on the right side, is it not, to be so friendly and kind 
to those beneath her ? I am so glad you appreciate my 
dear child’s good, noble heart ! ” 

To this speech, which filled him with a vague indig- 
nation, Lord Mannering only muttered an inaudible re- 
ply, and the subject of the Forresters was dropped. 

After dinner, however, when Florian went and took 
the chair by Ida’s sofa, that seemed to have been left 
by general consent for him to fill, he revived the topic 
of his own accord. 

“Tell me about your friend Miss Forrester?” he 
said to her in a low voice ; “ do you know, I thought 
you charming when you stood up for her at dinner- 
time ! ” 

If Ida had expected anything of a more tender 
nature from her recognized admirer, after a month’s 
absence from her side, she was too much conversant 
with the wisdom of this world to betray her disappoint- 
ment ; she turned to him at once, bright and smiling. 

“ Oh ! ” she said, “ Hester is a charming girl, and 
she is so good! You have no idea how good she is — 
she is not a bit like me, idle, you know, and frivolous ; 
she never wastes her time reading novels or chattering 
nonsense, as I do. She works so hard, and helps her 
mother with her housekeeping, and her younger 
brothers with their lessons — and she reads to her father 
and writes all his letters — and then she visits the poor, 




Dinr : ::L 41 

and makes clothes for them, and goes to nurse them 
when they are sick, and oh ! she does no end of good ! ” 
“ She has got, at anyrate, a very warm partisan in 
Miss Greythorne,” said Lord Mannering, smiling at 
her pleasantly. 

Ida looked down and played with her fan ; she 
liked him — yes, decidedly she liked him, and then she 
believed him to be devoted to her, and his devotion 
flattered her ; there was a little flutter at her heart 
when he praised her, for his praise was sweet to her. 
She knew that her parents wished her to marry him — 
she did not quite know, indeed, whether she wished it 
herself. As to love^ she had not thought much about 
it. It was as yet an unknown mystery to her — she 
had never even considered whether she was what is 
called “ in love ” or not. But she was quite sure that 
she liked Lord Mannering very much, and lovers were 
as yet a pleasant novelty to her, of which she had not 
grown tired. She was, like many girls who only half 
know their mind, prepared to let herself be worshiped 
without being quite certain as to where the worship- 
ing was likely to land her. 

She was, of course, convinced that Lord Mannering 
worshiped her very sincerely and devotedly ; she was, 
therefore, a little taken aback when he said to her, — 
« Will you take me to see Miss Forrester? I should 
like to know her.” Perhaps he caught the look of sur- 
prise in her blue eyes, for he hastened to add: ‘‘I 
want to know her because she is your friend, of course.” 

Ida looked quite satisfied ; but she did not, neverthe- 
less, feel very anxious to introduce Lord Mannering to 
Hester Forrester, for there was somebody else at The 


42 


A Woman’s No. 


Cottage who had not been mentioned, who was far 
more Ida’s friend than was Hester ; and there passed 
through her mind a doubt as to whether it would be 
quite wise and prudent to bring her aristocratic admirer 
to the very house where dwelt this other friend. 

‘‘ It is safer not to let them clash,” was Ida’s wise 
reflection, made to herself with a little smile of self- 
consciousness — ^for she knew her own power already — 
although as yet she did not know her own heart. 


CHAPTER V. 


UNHAPPY LOVERS. 

Now at this time Dick Forrester was very unhappy 
indeed. The days went by one by one, and there came 
to him no invitation to join the shooting-parties at 
Strathendale, such as Lady Cressida had promised 
him. Not that Dick wanted to go out shooting — far 
from it; for he had only an old gun — his father’s — 
of an antique fashion, quite devoid of all modern 
innovations and improvements. With this weapon 
Dick shot badly enough, and was not at all able 
to hold hiwS own amongst London men, with their 
bran new “ Grants ” and ‘‘ Purdies.” Dick considered 
shooting, under those circumstances, a painful and 
humiliating experience rather than a pleasure. He 
did not want to shoot; but he did want, with all 
his heart, to see Ida, and he knew that if he went out 
with the men from the Castle he must see her, either 
at starting or on coming home. Or possibly the ladies 
might join the men at lunch- time on the moorside ; 
and there was always, again, the chance of his being 
asked to remain to dinner. But no invitation at all 
came to him. Seemingly he was forgotten. He knew 
that Lord Mannering was staying at Strathendale and 
a fury of jealousy filled him every time he thought of 
this man, whom a sure instinct had told him was his 
43 


44 A Woman's No. 

rival. Once, indeed, he caught sight of him — and with 
Ida. 

It was a non-shooting day, and they had gone out 
riding together. As Dick came swinging along a 
narrow shady lane the two horses crossed it from a 
side road a little way ahead of him, and went on be- 
fore him. Neither rider perceived him, and in the im- 
potence of his rage and anguish Dick was able to notice 
that they rode close — far too close — ^together, and that 
their conversation seemed to be so absorbing that the 
horses were almost left to their own devices. 

Dick stood still, looking after them, nearly maddened 
with despair — there was something that was almost 
murderous in his mind. 

« Poor, weak, narrow-chested, pale-faced creature ! ” 
he exclaimed wildly. I could kill him with one grip 
of my hand ! ” and certainly at that moment he ex- 
perienced a strong desire to do so. 

As far as physique was concerned, there is no ques- 
tion that Dick had very much the best of it. Lord 
Mannering, pale and thin, small of bone and of sinew, 
narrow and slightly hollow in the chest, could hold no 
comparison whatever with the broad shoulders, the 
strong muscles, and the altogether manly build of Dick 
Forrester. 

No woman, looking at the two men together, could 
have hesitated a moment between the two, for Dick was 
as handsome as a picture, and of that type of beauty 
which all women love, because it denotes strength. 
But, then, there was that title to weigh down the 
balance on Lord Mannering’s side ! and where is the 
woman who will not unconsciously be biassed by the 


Unhappy Lovers. 45 

all-miglity power of rank? Even to Ida, nice- minded 
and thorough lady as she was, it was not without its 
fascination. 

As Dick stood rooted to the spot, looking after the 
fast- vanishing riders, an old keeper, who had known 
him ever since his boyhood, came by. 

“You be looking after the young mistress. Master 
Dick! Well, she do look a beauty, don’t she, on the 
bay mare her papa gave her ? And that is her young 
man, they say — and I ought to beg his pardon for call- 
ing him so, he being a lord — and a handsome-looking 
couple they will make coming out of Lennandale 
Church together some of these fine days, I’m thinking ! ” 

“ Handsome do you call him ? ” said Dick, scornfully, 
turning on his heel. “ He’s no match for her. Why, 

I could break every bone in his body with one hand, 
Jerry ! ” 

The old man chuckled. 

“ Ay ! so ye could. Master Dick — so ye could, I make 
no doubt, for you’re wonderful good at boxing and such 
like, and he’s but a poor wisp of a chap, for all that he’s 
a lord I But there, you gentlefolks never has a chance 
with your fists. They ain’t no sort of good to you, I’m 
thinking. The weak ones is as well off as the strong 
ones, seeing that it ain’t the custom for you to be 
knocking each other about and giving each other black 
eyes.” 

“ I wish to Heaven it were ! ” cried Dick, with such 
earnestness that even the old keeper could not help 
seeing that there was more than an ordinary dislike in * 
his feeling towards Miss Ida’s “young man,” as he had 
called him. 


A Woman^s No. 


46 

But Dick was more miserable than ever after this 
chance encounter. He would not go to Strathendale 
whilst Lord Mannering was there unless he should be 
sent for. He was too proud for that. But he waited 
day after day, longing, with a vain and fruitless long- 
ing, that Ida would send him some token, some sign 
that she desired to see him. 

But Ida made no sign ; and poor Dick said to him- 
self, bitterly, that she had forgotten him. 

Ida had not forgotten. Only she was young, and she 
was happy, and life was very sweet to her, and she 
thought nothing of love, because it had never come to 
her — she only thought about enjoying herself. 

There was one person to whom Dick’s trouble was a 
sad and pitiful spectacle, and that was his sister Hester. 
Hester, gentle^hearted, sympathetic, saw plainly enough 
how it was with her brother. To her there was but 
one way for him out of a passion that was utterly 
hopeless — to meet his trouble like a man, and to 
overcome it. 

Dick,” she said softly to him one twilight evening 
as he stood miserably leaning against the open window, 
staring across to the big house among the woods on the 
opposite side of the Lennan — “ Dick, my dear, if I were 
you I would go away from home for a little. Don’t 
you think it would be wisest ? ” 

She laid her gentle, sisterly hand soothingly upon 
his arm. 

‘‘ What good do you suppose that would do me ? ” 
he answered bitterly ; ‘‘ it is all the same wherever I 
go — and how can I go away now and leave him there ? ” 
and he nodded across to the Castle. 


Unhappy Lovers. 47 

‘‘ Why can’t you face the thing bravely, like a man ? ” 
she answered, a little impatiently. “ My poor brother ! 
cannot you see that it is all the same whoever is there 
— do you suppose that even if Lord Mannering were 
not there, there would not be some one else ? Dick, for 
Heaven’s sake, put Ida out of your head — her position 
in life is so different from yours — her parents will 
never allow her to show you any encouragement. 
Cease to struggle against a destiny that is utterly be- 
yond your power to alter — she is bound to marry some 
one in her own position of life — why should you be at 
home to bear the pain of it ? Go away before you have 
betrayed it to others as you have betrayed it to me, and 
forget her ! ” 

He put up his hand quickly. 

Hush, Hester, you mean it kindly — but you don’t 
understand things — you do not know what I know — 
that Ida loves me ! ” 

‘‘ Loves you ! ” 

Yes — she does not know it herself — but her heart 
is mine ! ” 

My poor, dear Dick ! you must be mad to think 
such a thing.” 

‘‘ I do not think it ! ” he answered quietly. “ I know 
it — I have seen it in her eyes.” 

“ Ida is a flirt ! Don’t look so furious, Dick — of 
course, I think her a dear, sweet girl, with many most 
charming qualities — but she has been a good deal 
flattered and spoiled in London, and if she has learned 
to play with an honest man’s love and to pretend to 
return it, when she must know — ” 


A Woman's No. 


48 

And then Dick got very angry indeed, and refused 
to listen to his sister any longer. 

Do not speak to me any more about it,” he said 
shortly. “ You do not understand her or me ! ” 

Meanwhile, at Strathendale things were going on 
from day to day without much visible alteration. The 
gentlemen shot all day ; the ladies played lawn tennis, 
or rode or drove, wiling away the hours of their ab- 
sence as best they could. Then came the evening, 
dinner, conversation, and a little music ; the eldest 
Miss Tempest flirted with Mr. Lawley ; Captain De 
Crecy, seeing that Ida was completely appropriated 
elsewhere, and that there was no chance for him, 
philosophically resigned himself to Lady Heywood, 
who, with the superior freedom of action accorded to 
married women, bore him off triumphantly from the 
young ladies of the party, and dragged him about at 
her chariot- wheels, as it were, in a state of quiescent 
and not ill-contented slavery. Laura Tempest chat- 
tered to everybody alike, but thought it at her 
heart rather hard that Lord Mannering should be so 
persistently deaf to her own charming and ever- 
ready powers of conversation. As to Lord Mannering, 
he hung over Ida’s chair, turned over her music, lowered 
his voice when he spoke to her, singled her out marked- 
ly amongst all the other women — much as he had done 
half the season in town — but nothing more ; he did 
not propose to her. 

Ida liked him just as he was immensely — she wanted 
nothing more from him — his respectful adoration de- 
lighted her ; she enjoyed all the prestige of having a 
lover without any of the practical inconvenience — she 


Unhappy Lovers. 49 

desired nothing better than that things should go on 
like this for ever. 

But if she was satisfied, so was not her mother. 
Lady Cressida waited anxiously from day to day, 
expecting to hear the news that Lord Marinering had 
declared himself ; and as day by day went on, and Ida 
had still nothing to confide to her maternal ears, she 
grew first uneasy, then disgusted, and finally she waxed 
downright angry. 

‘‘ I have no patience with him ! ” she exclaimed to 
her husband. ‘‘ What does he mean by hanging on 
day after day and never speaking ? ” 

I would not worry myself, my dear. Mannering 
is a deliberate sort of fellow, and takes things easy,” 
answered her husband, who was of an easy tempera- 
ment himself. 

A man has no business to take things easy, as you 
call it, when a girPs happiness depends upon it,” said 
Lady Cressida, angrily. 

“ Do you really think Ida’s happiness is at stake ? ” 
said her husband, with a slow, quiet smile. He did 
not interfere much with his wife and daughter, but he 
had his opinions too, which he wisely kept to himself. 

‘‘ Certainly it is,” answered his wife, sharply. She 
will never have a better or more suitable chance.” 

“ I quite agree with you. The match in every way 
would be an excellent one.” 

‘‘ It must be Ida’s own fault,” continued Lady 
Cressida. “ She does not give him sufficient encourage- 
ment. I must speak to her.” 

“ If you take my advice you will certainly not do 
that,” said Mr. Greythorne, with some earnestness. 

4 


So 


A Woman's No. 


But Lady Cressida considered that she knew best. 
She told her husband in so many words — polite, lady- 
like words, of course, but still amounting to the same 
thing — to mind his own business and allow her to 
manage things her own way : and she sought her 
daughter then and there in her own room. 

Ida was sitting listlessly by the window in her 
boudoir, looking idly out across the valley towards 
The Cottage. 

‘‘ My dear child, I think it is time this uncom- 
fortable state of things should be ended,” began Lady 
Cressida, sitting down by her daughter and taking her 
hand. 

What state of things, mamma ? ” 

“ Between you and Lord Mannering. It is time that 
you encouraged him to speak out plainly.” 

“ What can you mean, mamma ? — ^how can I en- 
courage him ? — what is there for him to speak about ? ” 

Ida looked the very picture of indignant innocence. 

‘‘My dear, don’t be childish,” said her mother. 
“ You know quite as well as I do that Lord Man- 
nering is here in the character of a suitor for your 
hand.” 

“ He has never told me so.” 

“ That has nothing to do with it — he means to tell 
you, of course ; and if your manner were more gracious 
and encouraging to him he would doubtless speak out 
at once. It is your fault, Ida, that he is so slow ; you 
are cold, or else you are too amiable to the other men. 
Now, pray, this evening make it your business to lead 
him on a little — some men require a little help from a 
woman — Lord Mannering evidently does. You might 


Unhappy Lovers. 51 

give him a flower from your bouquet, or take him out 
after dinner for a stroll in the gardens/^ 

‘‘ My dear mother ! ” laughed Ida, “ you seem to 
expect me to make love to the man ! 

“ You need not put things so coarsely, Ida. There 
are many little ways in which a lady may with perfect 
propriety let a gentleman see that she is ready to listen 
favorably to his proposals.” 

“ But I don’t at all want to make Lord Mannering 
propose to me, mamma. He is very nice as he is — 
why should I want him to change ? To tell you the 
truth, if he proposed to me I think it very likely I 
should refuse him. I don’t believe — I haven’t thought 
about it much yet — but I really don’t much think I 
have the least intention of marrying Lord Mannering 
or anybody else.” 

Lady Cressida was thunderstruck. Here was an ob- 
stacle upon which she had never counted ! That Ida 
herself should frustrate her plans by declaring that she 
did not intend to marry Lord Mannering was a thing 
which she had certainly never imagined possible. 

‘‘ You must be mad, Ida ! There could be no better 
match for you in all England ! ” she began indignantly. 

But Ida put up her hand quickly. 

“ Pray do not speak in that way, mamma ! If you 
do you will only disgust me utterly with the whole 
thing ! I like Lord Mannering very well, but I have 
never thought much about marriage. Perhaps I shall 
think about it more now you have suggested it ; but I 
cannot think it nice, or even ladylike, to discuss such 
a question, even with one’s mother, before a man has 
himself said anything. If you don’t mind, I’m going 


52 A Woman's No. 

out for a little into the garden. I should like to be 
alone.” 

She put on her hat and went out, leaving Lady Cres- 
sida in a state of much disturbance and discomfiture. 

Ida wandered out into the gardens in a state of mind 
which she was at a lost to understand or to account for 
to herself. She felt angry, and indignant, and uncom- 
fortable, and so unreasonably disturbed and disquieted, 
that she did not know what could be the matter with 
her. 

« Why could not mamma leave me alone ? ” she said 
to herself. ‘‘ I was quite happy before. She should 
not say such things to me ! ” 

She thought it was her mother’s injudicious remarks 
that had so aroused her into angry rebellion. But 
there was something in her own heart, over and above 
what her mother had said to her, which had awakened 
something new and unusual within her. 

As she passed across the lawn, the two Tempest 
girls called out to her to come and join their game of 
lawn tennis. 

‘‘ Come, Ida,” they called out to her — “ come and play 
with us ! Where have you been all the morning ? We 
thought you were never coming ! ” 

But Ida only shook her head, and passed on among 
the fiower-beds towards the shrubberies. 

She did not feel in the mood to join in their game or 
their brainless chatter. 

She went on alone by herself into the woods, feeling 
for the first time in all her young life that things were 
going wrong with her. Her mother’s words had some- 
how torn away the veil that had hidden her own heart 


Unhappy Lovers. 53 

from herself. She began to understand that, whilst 
she had been laughing, and smiling, and jesting away 
the days, she had been unconsciously approaching daily 
nearer and nearer to a crisis in her life — that the time 
was at hand when she must awake up out of the dreamy 
unreality of her girlhood and face her future boldly — 
when she must either obey her parents or take her own 
line resolutely, and defy them. The whole of her proud 
young nature stood up in angry rebellion against the 
idea of encouraging a man to make love to her. But 
if he should make love to her without such encourage- 
ment, what then ? 

She wandered away farther and farther from the 
house. Instinctively her steps were bent towards the 
river, and she only paused when she came out of the 
shadows of the sheltering trees upon the banks of the 
brawling, tumbling stream, whose every eddy had been 
her friend and companion ever since her childhood. 

She sat down on a great moss-grown rock by the 
river-side, rested her chin , upon her hand, looked 
away over to the small gray gables of The Cottage 
amongst the woods across the Lennan, and sighed. 

Then suddenly there fell a shadow between her and 
the foaming waters, and Dick Forrester stood before 
her ! 


CHAPTER VI. 


THE QUAEREL. 

Ida sprang joyfully to her feet and held out both 
her hands. All at once the disquietude of her heart 
seemed to be at rest, and half her trouble seemed to 
have vanished. 

“ Oh ! Dick, how glad I am to see you ! How long 
it is since you have been on our side of the water ! ” 

But Dick was in one of his worst and stormiest 
moods — an evil spirit of bitterness and rage possessed 
him. He did not even look at her. Had he done so — 
had he seen her sweet, troubled face light up with joy 
at the sight of him, or the wistful, pleading violet eyes 
that looked up so longingly towards him — had he seen 
them he must have been melted by the something new 
and tender he would have read in their sweet depths. 
The tremulous lip, the soft, anxious brow must have 
touched him to the heart, and roused all the love and 
gentleness within him. But unluckily he did not look 
at her. He kept his eyes steadfastly turned away, 
fixed upon the eddying and swirling waters. He said 
to himself, — 

“ If I look at her face I shall show her all my weak- 
ness and my misery. Her loveliness will drive me 
mad ! I will not look at her.” 

And then he answered her, bitterly and roughly, — 

« Is it a long time ? It is exactly ten days since I 
54 


The Quarrel. 55 

have been over the river. But I dare say it has been 
short enough to you. You have been quite happy 
and contented.” 

« Why do you say that ? How can you know ? 
You might at least have come to see us,” she said 
rather tremulously. 

Already the yearning in her lovely eyes was chilled 
and driven back within her. 

‘T don’t go where I’m not invited. If you had 
wanted to see me you would have sent for me, I 
suppose.” 

‘‘ Oh ! Dick, how can you be so unjust ? How could 

a girl, send for you ? And you know that papa and 
mamma are always glad to see you.” 

‘‘Are they?” — very bitterly. “Not, I imagine, 
when there is the fine lover there dancing attendance 
on you.” 

And then all the softness and tenderness died out 
of her heart ; and in her soreness and her wounded 
indignation she spoke angrily to him. 

“How dare 3^ou speak to me like that! What 
right have you ? ” 

“ I have no right. Did I ever pretend to have any 
right over you ? I may be poor, and I may be beneath 
you, but at any rate you cannot say — ^your mother 
even cannot say — that I have ever stepped over the 
barrier that divides me from you and yours.” 

And down in the depths of her troubled maiden 
heart it had been words of love that she had yearned 
with a passionate eagerness to hear from his lips I 

He looked at her now at last, but it was too late. 
There was no womanly softness, no pleading tender- 


A Woman's No. 


56 

ness in her lovely face now, only a cold, hard anger 
and indignation, and something, too, of scorn. 

At that moment Ida felt as if all her world — her 
mother, her lover, her very self — had turned against 
her own better nature, and was conspiring together to 
ruin her happiness. 

‘‘ I will not answer you,” she said contemptuously, 
“ when you speak so unjustly and so untruly. Who 
has ever reproached you with your poverty ? or when 
have I ever implied that we were anything but equals ? 
It is a mean, miserable pride that makes you speak 
like that, Dick. You ought to be ashamed of such 
words ! ” 

“ It is easy to lecture me, when you drive me half 
mad ! ” cried Dick, distractedly. “ Every day I hear 
of you — and — that fellow ! Your names are coupled 
together! the very gamekeepers and servants are 
jabbering over your love affairs ! You only want me 
to come to Strathendale that you may flaunt your 
happiness in my eyes ! Why don’t you ask me at 
once to your wedding ? ” 

For an instant her face half softened again, and a 
flush leaped up suddenly into her cheeks. 

“Are you jealous, Dick ?” she said softly and shyly. 

But Dick’s better angel was not apparently minded 
to befriend him on this particular occasion. Once 
again he was blind, and deaf, and senseless to that 
which he should have seen, and heard, and felt. 

“ Jealous ! ” he repeated, scornfully and sneeringly — 
“jealous ! l^ot I 1 What is there that any man can 
desire in you beyond your lovely face — ^your lovely 
figure ? You beautiful, heartless, soulless thing ! Do 


57 


The Quarrel. 

you think I envy any man who has trusted his life to 
you ? — to a woman who smiles a man’s heart away, 
and then laughs and leaves him to the blackness of 
his own despair, without a pang of regret or remorse ? 
1^0, 1 am not jealous ; I only pity your husband ! ” 

Could any woman forgive, or even answer, such 
words ? Ida could not. White to the very lips, she 
stood up before him for one minute with wildly-flash- 
ing eyes ; then, like a voice that was not her own, 
there fell from those white, rigid lips one short, 
hoarsely-uttered sentence — I pray that I may never 
see you again in this world ! ” then she turned swiftly 
away from him, and fled upwards out of his sight, 
amongst the dark shadows of the woods above them. 

But Dick had been mad with rage and jealousy. 
He had not kno^vn what he had said to her, nor 
realized the import of the insulting words he had cast 
at her. He had been possessed by the notion that her 
engagement to Lord Mannering was a fact. As he 
had walked down the village that very morning he had 
heard the people talking of it; and one man had 
stepped forward from a group of idlers and had asked 
him respectfully if he knew when the wedding was 
likely to take place. It had been all too much for 
him ; and then he had met her, and all his rage and 
fury had burst forth. There is no passion so ugly and 
so distorting as jealousy ; it drives a man to the un- 
reasoning madness of an infuriated animal. Dick, in 
his anger, did not remember that, although he loved 
Ida, he had never spoken to her of love ; were she 
engaged fifty times over to another man, she would 
still have broken no vows and been false to no love for 


A Woman's No. 


58 

him, for he had never exacted any from her. Only, 
perhaps, there had been a tacit, silent understanding 
between them in the old days — the days when he had 
wandered about the country with her and had carried 
her backwards and forwards across the river ; but of 
late years there had been no words of love between 
them, and Dick’s cruelty to her was only equaled by 
his injustice. 

When she had left him and gone from him, with 
those terrible words upon her lips, something of what 
he had done came vaguely upon him. He called after 
her wildly, — 

“ Ida ! Ida ! come back ! ” but she did not turn, 
perhaps she did not hear him. She fled hastily and 
swiftly, and never paused until she had found the 
shelter of her own room. 

That evening the whole party at the Castle was 
much distressed at the absence of the young lady 
of the house. Ida was locked up in her own room, 
and refused to come down to dinner. In vain her 
mother knocked at her door and pleaded admittance ; 
Ida would not let her in. 

I have a very bad headache,” she said, and her 
voice sounded choked and unnatural. “ I shall not come 
down at all to-night.” 

“ But, my dear, will you not let me in ? ” 

‘‘ISTo; I don’t want to see any one — please leave me 
alone.” 

At least let me send you up some dinner.” 

“ I could not touch a mouthful. Pray do not send 
up anything.” 


The Quarrel. 59 

« Will you not let Clothilde come to you and bathe 
your head ? ” 

“ No ; I want no one — do leave me alone.” 

That was all that Lady Cressida could extract 
from her self-imprisoned daughter. She was quite, 
at a loss to imagine what could be the matter with her 
— for, of course, she knew the headache was only an 
excuse. Is not headache always the convenient plea 
for heartache which comes glibly and lightly to a 
woman’s lips ? 

What could be the matter with Ida ? Was it possi- 
ble that her own words in the morning had had such a 
serious effect upon her? Was she meditating re- 
bellion or submission to the maternal will? Lady 
Cressida pondered deeply and anxiously, but could 
find nothing that could give her a clue to the mystery. 

She went down-stairs amongst her guests with an 
anxious and preoccupied brow. 

Poor Ida was so unwell,” she said ; “ quite pros- 
trate, in fact ; such a racking headache, she was hardly 
able to speak, far less to get up — it must be the change 
in the weather — a night’s rest would doubtless restore 
her.” 

There were many polite regrets and expressions of 
sympathy, and Laura Tempest seemed almost ready to 
dissolve into tears over “ poor, sweet, darling Ida suf- 
fering above whilst we are all eating as if nothing was 
the matter.” 

But after awhile everybody resumed the usual 
jokes, and the conversation flowed on as merrily and 
easily as ever. 

After dinner, however, when the gentlemen joined 


6o 


A Woman's No. 


the ladies, Lord Mannering came up to Lady Cressida 
with a face of some concern. 

“ I trust it is nothing serious with Miss Greythorne,” 
he said quite anxiously. ‘‘ Is it only a headache ? ” 
Now, if Lady Cressida had especially desired the 
intervention of Providence in behalf of her schemes 
for Ida’s future, she could have wished for no more 
fortunate thing to have happened than this opportu- 
nity of hinting to her daughter’s suitor that he might 
possibly be in some measure to blame for his dilatori- 
ness. She was above the vulgarity of seeking such an 
occasion, but the occasion having presented itself, she 
was far too clever a woman to allow it to be wasted. 
When Lord Mannering asked if Ida’s complaint was 
only a headache. Lady Cressida went through an ex- 
pressive little pantomime. 

She first of all shrugged her shoulders — as if to say, 
“ How am I to know ? ” — then she sighed a little — mean- 
ing, “ It is sad, isn’t it ! that she should make herself 
ill ” — then finally she smiled, as though she would have 
said, “ But young ladies’ troubles are not incurable.” 
It was all done without a word ; but so plainly that 
Lord Mannering, who had a kind heart and would not 
hurt a fiy if he could help it, looked quite shocked. 

‘‘ She is not unhappy, is she ? ” he asked in a 
whisper, and with a look of dismay that was almost 
comic. 

A little, perhaps,” said Lady Cressida, with 
another pathetic smile. ‘‘Uncertainty, you know, is 
always trying to the young ! ” 

Nobody could have said that Lady Cressida had been 
guilty of the vulgar error of asking a gentleman his 


The Quarrel. 6i 

intentions! And yet Lord Mannering said immedi- 
ately, — 

‘‘Will you kindly give me the opportunity of 
speaking to Miss Greythorne alone to-morrow morning, 
Lady Cressida ? ” 

And Lady Cressida, as she bent her head in assent, 
put forth her hand and pressed that of her future son- 
in-law with a smile of contentment. 


CHAPTER VII. 


A PBOPOSAL. 

Lord Manneeing, in asking Lady Cressida to afford 
him the opportunity of a private interview with Ida, 
made the request under a sudden and very earnest 
realization of duty. His wooing had been half-hearted 
and not very ardent. Nevertheless, he had been fully 
conscious of the fact that Miss Greythorne was a 
charming young lady, and that he would do a very 
wise thing in making her his wife— that she had money 
enough to set him at ease in worldly matters, and 
beauty and grace enough to adorn the station in life in 
which she would be placed. Moreover, he was not 
oblivious of the fact that the marriage would delight 
his mother and find favor in the eyes of his aged 
grandfather. 

So much Lord Mannering had known and acknowl- 
edged to himself before he had come down to 
Strathendale — ostensibly for the shooting. But ever 
since he had been there he had felt an unaccountable 
coldness and want of eagerness in the matter. Ida, it 
is true, was as charming as ever ; indeed, seen in the 
freedom of her country home, she was even more at- 
tractive than amongst the bustle and excitement of a 
London life; but Lord Mannering’s reluctance to 
speak out and settle the question became greater than 
ever ; he himself hardly knew what it was that made 
62 


A Proposal. 63 

him so cold and impassive to the many charms of the 
lovely heiress. Perhaps he hardly realized how often, 
sleeping and waking, there came before his eyes a 
vision of a very different nature; of dark, dreamy 
eyes that haunted him ; of a proud, sweet face, rich 
with southern hues, that once seen, and once only, he 
had never been able to forget. Lord Mannering had 
feebly and vaguely endeavored to analyze his own 
feelings ; but that which had not hitherto even entered 
into his own mind had been the consideration of Ida’s. 

When, therefore. Lady Cressida had so cleverly, and 
with such perfect good- breeding, hinted to him that 
her daughter was unhappy and even unwell on his 
account, by reason of the dilatoriness of his love-mak- 
ing, the inference that Ida was pining away for love 
of him came upon him with a positive shock. Manner- 
ing, who was keenly sensitive in matters of honor 
and gentleman-like conduct, as at once conscience- 
stricken, and took himself severely to task concerning 
his conduct to Miss Greythorne. 

It struck him in a new and hitherto unconsidered 
light, for he had never before speculated upon what 
might be her feelings in the matter. He had dangled 
after her half the season ; he had followed her to her 
country home ; he had singled her out by marked and 
pointed attentions, so that, as he well knew, their 
names had been constantly coupled together, and 
people spoke confidently and smilingly, almost to his 
very face, of “ the match ” that was expected to ensue ; 
and in all this he had never given a thought as to 
whether Ida herself really cared for him, but had taken 
it for granted, he hardly knew why, that she, like him- 


A Woman’s No. 


64 

self, regarded the affair as a convenient and suitable 
arrangement which, without being displeasing to the 
principal actors, would be eminently gratifying to the 
families on both sides. 

But if Ida loved him ! Good Heavens ! how materi- 
ally the case was altered ; and how cold and cruel 
must his conduct appear in her sight ! 

All night long the picture of Ida, pale and distract- 
ed by just doubts of her lover’s truth and earnestness, 
weeping, perhaps, the tears of a love-sick maiden, or 
tossing to and fro in a fever of miserable uncertainty 
upon her pillow, kept Lord Mannering awake with a 
haunting sense of his own heartlessness, and banished 
sleep effectually from his eyes. In his compassion and 
pity for her he almost fancied that he loved her ; and 
it is certain that, for the first time since he had slept 
at Strathendale, Hester Forrester took no part in his 
short and troubled dreams. 

It was, therefore, with feelings of some impatience 
and eagerness to repair his past errors, and to make up 
to her for what he imagined she had suffered on his 
account, that he awaited her the following morning 
after breakfast in Lady Cressida's morning-room, where 
she had told him that she would send her daughter to 
' speak to him. 

Ida had not appeared at breakfast, so that they met 
for the first time that day. She came into the room 
pale as a ghost, with dark circles that betokened tears 
and sleeplessness round her lovely eyes, but with a 
fixed and resolute look in her face, as though she had 
held a long struggle with some dire temptation, and 
had remained the conqueror over herself. 


A Proposal. 65 

Her mother had partly prepared her for what was to 
come. 

Lord Mannering has asked me to give him the 
opportunity of speaking to you alone, Ida. He spoke 
to me last night very nicely and properly,’’ she had 
said to her daughter. 

Ida smiled bitterly and hardly. 

‘‘ It is well,” she said to herself. I shall not now 
have time for any weak-hearted repentance. What I 
have resolved will be easy to do.” 

Very well, mamma,” she answered aloud, coldly 
and apathetically. “ Where am I to see him ? ” 

“ « I told him to go into my room after breakfast ; 
you had better go to him there ; and, Ida, I need not 
impress upon you the importance of the interview that 
is before you, nor the earnest hopes of your father and 
myself that you may give Lord Mamiering a right and 
favorable answer.” 

Ida put up her hand. 

‘‘ That will do, mamma. I quite understand you.” 

But, my dear child, I must beg you to tell me 
what your answer — ” 

But Ida interrupted her impatiently. 

‘‘ I can tell you nothing ! ” she cried. I shall be 
guided entirely by circumstances.” 

What ! in a matter of such importance as this — 
a matter that concerns your whole future happiness ? ” 

Ida looked at her strangely. 

‘‘ Suppose we leave my future happiness out of the 
question,” she said. Where is Lord Mannering — 
in your room, did you say ? I will go to him at 
once.” 


5 


66 


A Woman's No. 


She fastened a crimson rose that lay upon her 
dressing-table into the bosom of her dress, and went. 

Perhaps it was that crimson rose that made her 
look so deadly pale as she entered — the rose that lay 
among the white laces of her morning dress. Lord 
Mannering thought he had never seen so great an 
alteration in any one is so few hours. 

He took her hand with the deepest concern and led 
her to a chair. 

Do you feel any better ? How pale you are ! I 
am afraid you are far from well ? ” 

“ I have not slept well,” murmured Ida. “ I am 
better than I was. I shall be all right by-and-by, I 
dare say.” 

She sat down, and there was a slight pause. He 
stood beside her chair, looking down at her white, 
suffering face, and felt that if he were the cause of it 
he must be a brute indeed. 

Then suddenly he knelt down by the side of her 
chair and took one of her hands between his. 

‘‘ Ida,” he said earnestly, ‘‘ you know what I want 
to say to you, don’t you ? ” 

She nodded, looking down and crumpling up the lace 
trimmings of her dress between her fingers. 

“ Ida, will you be my wife ? ” 

She was quite silent for the space of half a minute. 
He looked at her in some surprise. There was no sud- 
den rush of glad, warm color into her face, no half-shy 
and happy upward glance of her downcast eyes to meet 
his ; only the same pallor, the same unalterable serious- 
ness in her bent face and drooping eyelids. He was 
surprised ; it was not what he had expected. 


A Proposal. 67 

“ Are you not going to answer me ? ” he said at length, 
in a voice of disappointment ; for when a man imagines 
himself to be devotedly loved, it is a shock to his vanity, 
if not to his heart, to find that his tender addresses do 
not call forth any corresponding emotion. 

Then Ida lifted her eyes at last and met his ; but 
there was no gladness, no embarrassment even, in their 
depths, and there was no maiden-fiush of delighted love 
upon her face. 

“Will you let me ask you a question. Lord Manner- 
ing, first, before I give you an answer to yours ? ” 

“ Certainly — as many as you like,” he said readily ; 
but he rose from the humble, kneeling posture by her 
side, and took a chair near her ; almost unconsciously, 
too, he dropped her hand. 

“ Tell me, then, in making me this proposal, are you 
actuated by a great and real love for me ? ” 

The question was so strange and so unexpected that 
Lord Mannering hardly knew what to say. He stam- 
mered and turned crimson. 

“ Really, my dear Ida, I am quite surprised — quite 
astonished, that you should ask such a thing. Of course, 
when a man asks a woman to marry him — of course he 
must be actuated by affection.” 

“ Is that your experience of life. Lord Mannering ? I 
am afraid I have not been able to take quite so chari- 
table a view of the matrimonial contracts of my neigh- 
bors.” She laughed a little. 

“ I do not understand you,” he said, reddening deeply 
all over his fair face. “ You must know that I am fond 
of you.” 

“ That is no answer to my question. Do you love me 


68 


A Woman’s No. 


with your whole soul and heart? — so dearly that if I 
were to send you away you would half die of it ? ” 

I earnestly hope that you will 7iot send me away, 
though in such a case — well, I don’t think, perhaps, 
that one dies of that kind of thing.” 

“ That will do I ” said Ida, smiling. « Lord Manner- 
ing, I am very glad we understand each other. I am 
quite sure you have a great esteem and a fair amount of 
affection for me.” 

“ A great deal of affection, Ida, I assure you.” 

“Well, if you like it better, we will say a great deal 
of affection. I am sure you would not have done me 
the honor of asking me to be your wife had not this been 
the case. You are fond of me ; but you are not violent- 
ly or absorbingly in love with me. I am very glad of 
it. Had you loved me devotedly I could not have been 
so wicked as to marry you. As it is,” and she stretched 
out her hand to him with a calm, friendly smile — “ as 
it is, I think we shall suit each other very well, and be 
very happy together ; and — yes, I will be your wife.” 

Lord Mannering took the outstretched hand — -what 
else indeed could he do? — and bending over it, he 
pressed it to his lips. But I find it hard to describe the 
state of utter bewilderment and of stupefied chaos to 
which his mind was reduced during the performance of 
this first lover-like action. 

He had expected to comfort a tender-souled girl 
whose heart had been breaking fophim ; to dry her tears, 
to call back smiles and blushes to her pale, wan face, to 
catch her broken words of love and devotion. All this, 
although he loved her not, would have been very sweet 
to him, and would have assuredly endeared her to him ; 


A Proposal. 69 

for where is the man who can remain cold and impassive 
when a lovely and adoring woman casts her arms about 
his neck and pours out the riches of her young heart 
into his not unwilling ears ? It was a prospect that had 
the keenest attractions for him. But how different was 
the reality ! Here was a woman who began by coldly 
questioning his affection, who after having, much against 
his will, extracted from his reluctant lips an admission 
of his own want of great affection for her, went on to 
say that she was glad of it, and that by reason of it she 
would become his wife, with the cold and calculating 
assurance that they would suit each other very well.” 
What could be more unromantic and more prosaic ? 

I am afraid that Lord Mannering’s first and foremost 
sensation was a distinct impression that Lady Cressida 
had swindled him ; and his private reflections upon the 
subject of his future mother-in-law’s character were 
neither complimentary nor respectful. 

But still there was much to puzzle and bewilder him ; 
he could not believe that Ida herself had been a party 
to the deception — for he could regard it as nothing less 
— that Lady Cressida had practised upon him. Last 
night’s illness could not have been a sham and a pre- 
tence, he had only to look up at her pale face to feel 
sure of that ; there was something that was unexplained 
to him. 

“ You have been ill and unhappy, and you have been 
crying,” he said to her. Tell me what has ailed you.” 

I have been very unhappy ; and, yes, I have certain- 
ly been guilty of a few tears,” she ansv.^ered, and for 
the first time there was a slight blush upon her face. 

But I am going to forget all that now and be quite 


70 


A Woman's No. 


happy and cry no more,” and she smiled at him affection- 
ately and sweetly. 

He felt somehow that it was impossible to question 
her further. What fault could he find with her ? She 
had accepted him, she had smiled at him quite lovingly, 
she had told him she meant to be quite happy ; she even, 
at his desire, stretched out her smooth, soft cheek to 
him, to be kissed in quite a sisterly manner. And yet 
Lord Mannering felt that she did not love him, and he 
told himself that had he known as much of Ida Grey- 
thorne an hour ago as lie did now he would never have 
asked her to be his wife. 


CHAPTER YIII. 


dick’s appointment. 

The news of Miss Grey thorne’s engagement to Lord 
Mannering soon spread rapidly amongst the scattered 
inhabitants for many miles on-both sides of the valley 
of the Lennan. From the highest to the lowest, every- 
body was eager to offer their congratulations upon so 
propitious an event. Everybody felt that no marriage 
more suitable and appropriate had ever been aiTanged. 

There was a general rejoicing and hand-shaking 
over it, and every face was wreathed in smiles and 
good temper every time that the subject was men- 
tioned ; for it was universally felt that Ida — their own 
young lady — had done a highly creditable and praise- 
worthy thing in selecting for her future husband, so 
illustrious a scion of the aristocracy as the Earl of 
Wilmerton’s grandson and heir. 

But there was one house where there was no joy 
and no excitement over Ida Greythorne’s engagement. 

It was Hester who laid her cool hand upon her 
brother’s brow as he sat moodily by himself in his 
own room, and told him the fatal news. 

I have been in the village, Dick, and I met Mr. 
M’Clean ” — Mr. M’Clean was the vicar — “ he had come 
down from lunching at the Castle, and he told me — ” 

Dick looked up sharply. 

Yes — I can guess ! She is engaged to Lord Man- 

71 


72 A Woman's No. 

nering. Why do you hesitate, Hester ? Have I not 
expected it ? ” 

“ Yes, dear ; and it is better to know the worst, and 
to make up your mind to it, isn’t it ? ” said Hester’s 
compassionate voice. 

Dick turned from her with a sort of groan, and hid 
his face in his hands. Hester stooped and pressed her 
lips softly upon his dark, clustering curls. 

“ Are you quite sure ? ” he asked in a low voice. 

‘‘ Lady Cressida told Mr. M’Clean herself ; it is only 
just settled, I understand ; but the news is in every- 
body’s mouth already.” 

There was a moment or two of silence, then Dick got 
up suddenly and began putting together the books 
that lay scattered upon the table before him. 

“ I am glad I am going,” he said brokenly. 

“ So am I — very glad, Dick, dear,” answered Hester, 
earnestly. 

For there had come news to The Cottage that morn- 
ing which had completely eclipsed, in the minds of the 
little family, anything that could have been told them 
from Strathendale. 

The morning post had brought Dick’s appointment 
in the Indian Civil Service, and he was to start in a 
week’s time. All was instantly bustle and confusion ; 
Colonel Forrester was delighted and fussy. Mrs. For- 
rester, half in tears, was tremblingly anxious over her 
son’s outfit, to which, however, she was hardly equal 
to attend, and Hester felt as if the whole cares of 
the household were shifted all at once upon her own 
shoulders. Only Dick remained gloomy and taciturn. 

The little sitting-room was already encumbered^by 


73 


Dick’s Appointment. 

empty trunks, around which heaps of clothes and piles 
of books and papers were rapidly being collected pre- 
paratory to being packed. In the midst of the con- 
fusion, poor Mrs. Forrester, sitting on the ground, shed 
tears between every word she uttered, and seemed ut- 
terly incapable of controlling herself. It seemed to her 
a dreadful fate, this sending off of her boys one after 
the other to that cruel, distant India, whence she had 
but small hope of ever living to see them return. 

She had borne the departure of the two eldest with 
a fair amount of fortitude ; but Dick was her favorite 
son, and up to the last she had hoped against hope 
that something — she hardly knew what — would step 
in between him and his impending fate. 

As Hester, thoughtful and grave, but active and en- 
ergetic, went to and fro about the house collecting 
her brother’s property, sorting old things from new, 
and carrying great bundles of clothes in her arms 
ready to be packed, Mrs. Forrester poured forth her 
despairing thoughts to her daughter. 

“I had hoped it would have been so different 
Hester ; I always thought his going would end in 
mere talk. There seemed such a much brighter pros- 
pect before my boy — so much happiness near home 
that might have been his ! ” 

“ It is better he should go, mamma,” said Hester, 
ignoring allusions, which she, nevertheless, understood 
perfectly. ‘‘ You know that you and papa could not 
afford to keep a grown man at home doing nothing. 
Dick himself would never have submitted to be a bur- 
den upon his parents.” 

He need not have been a burden,” said Mrs. For- 


74 


A Woman's No. 


rester, in a voice broken with tears. Oh, Hester ! 
how coldly and heartlessly yon put things ! You know 
very well, if my dear boy had chosen, he might have 
had happiness and wealth too. I fear it is owing to 
your counsels that he has refrained from what a mere 
child might have seen was within his very grasp. You 
are much to blame, Hester.” 

‘‘ Oh, mamma ! how unjust you are ! ” murmured 
the girl, reproachfully. « If you are speaking of Ida, 
do you suppose if it had been possible — ” 

‘‘ It was possible,” interrupted her mother, sharply. 
“ It would have been the most natural thing in the 
world. Ida was brought up with him — ” 

And then Dick stepped into the room behind her. 

Mother, have you not heard the news ? ” he said 
in a cold, deliberate voice. Miss Greythorne is en- 
gaged to Lord Mannering. We have nothing to do 
with her, nor she with us, forever.” 

Something in his face silenced his mother. She had 
never seen her Dick look so stern and harsh. She un- 
derstood that Ida’s name must be spoken no more. 

The packing was still going on apace when a groom 
in the Greythorne livery rode noisily up to the lowly 
door of The Cottage, bearing a note from her ladyship 
to Miss Forrester. 

She read it through in silence. 

‘‘ Lady Cressida asks me to go over to Strathendale 
this afternoon,” she said, when she had finished it. 

She says that she has something to say to me.” 

“ You will go, I suppose ? ” 

‘‘Yes, mother; I suppose I must, though I do not 
know what she wants of me.” 


75 


Dick^s Appointment. 

She sat down to the table to answer the note. 
Whilst she was writing it Dick came up to her side. 

‘‘ May I see the note, Hester ? ” 

‘‘ Oh, Dick, you had far better not ! ” 

But Dick had already taken possession of it. 

Dear Hester, — Will you come over this afternoon, 
I have something of importance to say to you. Ida, too, 
wants to see her old friend. Of course you have heard 
her great news. The dear child is dying to talk about 
her happiness and delight to you ; so I hope you will 
come and have some tea. — Yours, C. G.” 

The note fell from Dick’s hands, he turned suddenly 
and left the room. He went down the slopes of the 
little garden and sank upon a bench under some spread- 
ing beech trees, whence often and often in bygone years 
he had sat and watched for the flutter of her little 
white frock. 

Was it indeed Ida, his little love, his darling, who 
had sent such a message to his own sister — a message 
that she must have known he would hear ? 

Her delight and happiness ! ” he repeated bitterly 
to himself. “ No, there can be no delight to a woman 
who is false to her own heart, nor happiness, when she 
is ruining the life of the man who loves her ! She 
cannot be happy ! The glitter of rank and position has 
dazzled her, and the counsels of her mother have 
drowned the voice of her better self. But no, she 
cannot be happy ! ” 

He remained thus plunged in miserable thought for 
some time. It did not occur to him to remember his 
own cruel and almost insulting words to her on the oc- 


A Woman's No. 


76 

casion of their last meeting. He did not reflect that 
a little softness, a little gentleness to her, might have 
altered both their lives — that the word of love she had 
yearned for so intensely might have won her even at 
the eleventh hour. Nor did he see that it was only be- 
cause he himself had been hard and loveless to her that 
she had abandoned herself recklessly to her fate. 


CHAPTER IX. 


HESTER AT STRATHENDALE. 

It was late that afternoon when Hester, for the first 
time since Lord Mannering had been staying at Strath- 
endale, was ushered into the drawing-room at the 
Castle. 

Lady Cressida received her alone. Hester, as in duty 
bound, murmured some words of congratulation, which 
she did her best to make as warm and hearty as she 
could, upon Ida’s engagement. Lady Cressida, who, 
having got everything her own way, was in a state of 
perfect good temper and serene amiability towards 
everything and everybody about her, thanked Hester 
effusively for her good wishes. 

« So sure you and your dear father and mother would 
be pleased! You will all guess what a happiness it is 
to us to feel that the dear child’s future is so satisfac- 
torily settled. Her prospects, indeed, are all sunshine. 
Lord Mannering is a charming fellow. He will be the 
best of husbands, and will make her perfectly happy. 
Oh! yes, my dear, you shall see her presently, of 
course ; but I wanted to say a few words to you first.” 
She took a letter out of her pocket. I have a letter 
here from an old friend of mine, Mrs. Tracy. She has 
an only child, a daughter, whose health has given her a 
great deal of anxiety for many years, and she writes to 
me that the doctors have recommended the companion- 
77 


A Woman's No. 


78 

ship of some young lady who would be able to live 
with her constantly. Mrs. Tracy lives in the South. 
She is a charming person. She v/ould give liberal 
terms — in short, my dear, I thought that perhaps, as I 
know you are not very rich, you might be glad to take 
this opening yourself. Mrs. Tracy asks me if I know 
any lady who would be suitable, as she does not wish 
to engage any chance stranger of whom she knows 
nothing privately. Would you like me to recommend 
you ? ” 

Hester was silent for some minutes. The sudden- 
ness of the proposal startled her. At length she 
answered slowly, — 

« I am deeply sensible of your kindness in thinking 
of me. Lady Cressida; but I do not think noAV that 
there will be any occasion for me to leave home. 
Indeed I do not see how my mother could get on with- 
out me, for I must tell you that Dick leaves us in a 
week’s time. His appointment came this morning.” 

Lady Cressida’s delight at this intelligence was far 
greater than the commonplace words by which she 
expressed her polite gratification. To hear that Dick 
Forrester was going to India so soon was a real relief 
to her. 

“ Otherwise,” continued Hester, “ I might have con- 
sidered Mrs. Tracy’s proposal ; but as it is, I do not 
think I could be spared from home.” 

Lady Cressida said a few words of civil regret, and 
put the letter back in her pocket ; and then Ida came 
in from the garden with a basket of roses on her arm. 

There was very little of the delight and happiness 
of which Lady Cressida had spoken in Ida’s downcast 


Hester at Strathendale. 


79 


face and hesitating manner as she greeted her old 
friend. There was indeed a deprecating look in her 
blue eyes cast up to Hester’s, and a dumb and almost 
piteous appeal that Dick’s sister should not judge her 
harshly, that told a very different story from that 
which Hester had expected. She kissed her affection- 
ately, and murmured to her some commonplace hopes 
for her happiness. 

‘‘You are very kind — very good,” said Ida, bending 
confusedly over her roses. 

“ This is a happy day for us all,” said Lady Cres- 
sida ; “ congratulate your friend, Ida ; her brother’s 
appointment has arrived, and he starts for India in a 
week.” 

Ida gave one upward look of startled terror into 
Hester’s face. 

“ Dick ! ” she faltered, and turned as white as the 
palest rose in her basket, then, blushing guiltily, bent 
her head low again over the flowers. If Lady Cres- 
sida remarked her daughter’s agitation she gave no 
sign of it. She was knitting some large white woolen 
wrap on a pair of thick wooden pins. She went on 
cheerily and placidly with her knitting, and the pins 
click-clacked merrily against each other. 

“Yes, isn’t it a good thing? I don’t know when 
I have heard anything that has given me so much 
pleasure. How glad you must all be, Hester ! ” 

“Yes, we are glad in a way,” answered Hester, ^ 
slowly, still watching Ida’s changing color ; “ but it is 
sad work parting with him too.” 

. “ Of course — of course ; but that can’t be helped. 
Young men who have to work for their living must 


8o 


A Woma 


go out into the world. It is a very good thing for 
them. Your mother must not fret; she must cheer 
up, and remember that it is for his advantage.” 

But Ida never uttered a word. She only sat over 
her flower-basket, turning the roses over and over 
with aimless Angers, and staring at them with blinded 
eyes that saw nothing of what they looked at. 

‘‘ Ida, are you not going to give Hester some tea ? ” 
Ida started, and sprang to her feet, and busied her- 
self, hastily and nervously, over the tea-table. Her 
mother glanced at her sharply once or twice. “ And 
the sooner that young man is out of the country the 
better,” said Lady Cressida, sagely, to herself. Well, 
Ida,” aloud, “you are very silent. I thought you 
would have a host of things to tell Hester.” 

Thus adjured, Ida found voice to say to her friend, — 

“Yes, I should like to talk to you. When you have 
flnished your tea, will you come up-stairs into my room 
with me ? ” 

Lady Cressida would have preferred that the con- 
fldential talk should have taken place in her presence, 
but she knew not how to object to so reasonable a 
proposal. So, when the two girls had flnished their 
tea, they rose and left the room together. 


CHAPTER X. 


A CLUSTER OF NUTS. 

The instant they were alone Ida caught hold of her 
companion’s hands. 

Next week^ did you say ? Oh ! Hester, can it be 
really so soon as that that he is going to India ? ” she 
exclaimed, with an agitation which she did not even 
endeavor to conceal. 

Hester, if she was surprised,, was also a little indig- 
nant too. Although she liked Ida personally, she had 
never considered that she had behaved well to Dick. 
She had flirted with him according to Hester’s ideas. 
She had deluded him with false hopes because it had 
been pleasant to her to keep a handsome fellow 
dangling after her, and then she had thrown him over, 
without a thought or a regret, when she had no longer 
need of him. 

It was scarcely to be wondered that, believing this, 
Hester should be somewhat irritated by the great and 
absorbing interest which Ida, engaged as she was now 
to another man, displayed in the movements of her 
brother. She answered her, therefore, coldly and 
formally, — 

Certainly I said next week. He will probably start 
on Wednesday or Thursday next. However, that is 
not what we came here to talk about, was it? You 

6 8i 


82 


A Woman's No. 


were to tell me about your engagement, were you not, 
and about Lord Mannering ? ” 

“ Hester, you are cruel to me ! ” cried Ida, impetu- 
ously. Ho you know that Hick and I parted in anger 
with each other a few days ago ? Oh ! how can I let 
him go away to the other side of the world without 
making my peace with him ! Ho you think he will 
come and wish me good-by before he goes ? ” 

I think he had far better not,” said Hester, gravely. 
“ It is better for Hick’s peace of mind that he should 
not see you again. You must see, Ida, that your path 
and his in life are to lie very far apart from each other. 
It can do no possible good for him to wish you good- 
by.” 

‘‘ Hester, dear Hester ! ” cried Ida, entreatingly. 
“ Pray ask him to come and see me again ! Remember 
the years we have known each other. We have been 
almost like brother and sister together, have we not ? 
Oh, do be kind to me, and tell him from me I must see 
him once more ! ” 

She twined her arms round Hester’s neck, and laid 
her head caressingly down on her shoulders. 'No one 
ever could refuse things to Ida — she had such a pretty 
and insinuating manner. Hester thought her worse 
than weak — almost heartless, indeed, to wish to subject 
Hick to such a trying ordeal. Yet she gave a sort of 
half promise that she would give him her message. 

‘‘ I don’t think you realize the harm you will be do- 
ing to the poor fellow,” she said gravely, for she could 
not understand that this was more than an idle whim 
on Ida’s part to exercise her power over Hick for the 
last time. 


A Cluster of Nuts. 


83 

For all her goodness and her wisdom and her three 
years’ seniority Hester was but ill versed in matters of 
the heart. She had never either loved herself or been 
beloved. Such things had never come in her way, and 
she understood but little of love’s signs and signals. 
It did not strike her as possible that Ida Greythorne 
could love any other man save him to whom she was 
engaged. 

When Ida, at her reiterated request that she would 
speak of her own affairs, turned from her listlessly and 
wearily, saying, “ Oh ! there is nothing to tell you about 
it — I can’t talk about myself,” Hester only said to her- 
self, “ She is right. 

chatter about him to everybody ; it would be too sacred 
a subject to be talked over lightly, like a first ball or a 
new dress ; ” and she respected her friend for her 
reticence concerning her lover. 

Hester left Strathendale slowly and thoughtfully, but 
no sooner was she beyond the reach of Ida’s pleading 
face and persuasive words than she began very much 
to doubt the expediency of fulfilling the promise that 
had been extracted so unwillingly from her. For her 
brother’s sake Hester deemed that she would do a Avise 
and sensible thing in maintaining a strict silence con- 
cerning what Ida and she had talked about. 

Where was the use, she reflected, of raking up this 
miserable business afresh now that Dick was going 
away and that Ida’s engagement had finally put an end 
to all his hopes ? What good could it do him to see 
her again? Might it not even work positive mis- 
chief? 

Hester knew that, if left to himself, Dick would go 


A Woman's No. 


84 

no more to Strathendale, whereas, if Ida’s message was 
delivered to him, he would certainly fulfil her wishes 
and go to say good-by to her — a painful and trying 
ordeal to him, which could only serve to unsettle his 
mind and to cause him tenfold more grief and pain 
than he was suffering at present. 

So Hester made up her mind — not, indeed, without 
a few qualms of conscience — that she would hold her 
tongue and say nothing, and disregard the promise she 
had given to Ida. 

Had she fulfilled it, and had Dick gone to say good- 
by to Ida at Strathendale, the whole of this history 
would have been materially altered. Dick would have 
gone to the Castle in the middle of the day, his visit 
would have been duly announced by a portly butler 
and a powdered footman. Lady Cressida would very 
certainly have been in the room all the time, and Dick’s 
farewell to Ida would have been a very formal business 
indeed. 

But the fates had willed things otherwise, and Hester 
Forrester, all unconsciously, was preparing the way for 
a course of events of which she certainly had not the 
remotest foresight, nor had she the slightest idea of 
how great were the issues of her well-meant, though 
injudicious, want of faith to her friend. 

She dismissed the subject from her mind, and 
walked slowly on through the woodland path that 
led downwards towards the river; the water was 
now very low, so she had found no difficulty in cross- 
ing the Lennan by the stepping-stones, and there was 
only a shallow, trickling stream amongst the white 
stones, instead of the torrent which in winter, or in 


A Cluster of Nuts. 85 

times of rain and storm, rushed tumultuously down, 
almost submerging them in its foaming fury. 

Hester stepped lightly from stone to stone for 
she was strong and active, and long custom had made 
her sure-footed amongst the rocks of the river, by 
whose banks she had lived ever since her childhood. 
She went leisurely therefore, and stopped about half- 
way to bend down and look at the purling water that 
Tippled its way hurriedly across a sweep of many- 
colored pebbles. Here and there a silver fish fiashed 
swiftly down the stream in the sunlight, or a sudden 
splash in the deeper pool beyond betrayed the presence 
of a salmon or a trout. 

So absorbed was Hester in watching all this, that 
she was totally unconscious of the approach of another 
foot-passenger across the stepping-stones, who was 
coming towards her from the opposite direction ; and 
it was only when the shadow of a man fell across the 
sunny water which she was contemplating so earnestly, 
that she suddenly looked up with a start, and found 
that upon the very next fiat white stone to her stood a 
gentleman — the same who had so nearly run over her 
in a dogcart not more than ten days ago. 

Hester had not the slightest idea that the man be- 
fore her was Lord Mannering — Ida Greythorne’s be- 
trothed. Of this she was perfectly unconscious ; but 
there was something in the face of this gentleman, who 
was an utter stranger to her — a way of looking at her 
that so plainly betrayed his admiration — that she 
blushed deeply ; and in springing aside to allow him 
to pass by her, somehow her foot stumbled, and, much 


86 


A Woman's No. 


to her own shame and confusion, she slipped ankle-deep 
upon the shining pebbles into the water. 

In another instant Lord Mannering, whose feet and 
legs were encased in strong boots and leather leggings, 
was beside her. 

“ What a brute you must think me ! ” he exclaimed, 
as he assisted her to regain the stone from which she 
had fallen. “ I seem fated to bring you into trouble 
whenever I meet you.” 

‘‘ And I seem fated to be everlastingly in your way,” 
said Hester, half laughing. “ I really must apologize 
for my stupidity and awkwardness.” 

“ It was not at all your fault, but mine. I startled 
you by my sudden appearance. I am quite distressed 
about you. Your feet are wet. I am afraid you will 
catch cold.” 

“ Not if I walk home fast. It will not be the first 
time I have wet my feet in the Lennan.” 

“I shall certainly walk home with you,” said 
Lord Mannering, giving her his hand to assist her 
over the stepping-stones. 

“ Pray do not think of such a thing,” she answered. 

But she could not avoid taking his hand, although 
she was vexed with herself for being compelled to ac- 
cept this attention, which she told herself was totally 
unnecessary. 

“ You have not a long walk to The Cottage, for- 
tunately, Miss Forrester,” he said, when they had 
reached the opposite shore in safety. 

“ How on earth do you know my name ! ” cried 
Hester, looking at him in great surprise. 

‘‘ Have you forgotten that I met you before ? ” he 


A Cluster of Nuts. 


87 

replied. «Do you think it likely that, having once 
met you, I should have omitted to inquire your name ? ” 
He looked at her so fixedly and admiringly whilst he 
said this that Hester’s heart fiuttered in a new and un- 
accustomed manner, whilst her cheeks fiushed, and 
her eyes were unable to meet those of her companion. 

You know I am staying at Strathendale,” he con- 
tinued, walking on by her side. 

Yes, I guessed that,” she said, without looking up. 
“ How is it that ever since I have been there you 
have never been to the house once ? ” 

I have been there just now,” she answered, smil- 
ing, “ and you were out.” 

am not sorry for that since I have met you here. 
Will you forgive me for saying that I am even glad of 
that unlucky slip into the Lennan, since it has em- 
boldened me to offer you my escort home ? ” 

‘‘ Of which I assure you there is not the slightest 
occasion,” she said hurriedly ; and then, in order to 
change the subject, Hester was upon the point of ask- 
ing him whether he liked Lord Mannering, but some- 
thing — it was a slight scruple as to whether Ida would 
like her engagment talked over to another man staying 
in her house — deterred her from mentioning his name. 
Instead of doing so, she asked him if he was going to 
stay at Strathendale much longer. 

‘‘A week or so, in all probability,” he answered 
vaguely. And then Hester, blushing rather at her 
own boldness, said, — 

« Will you think me very rude if I ask you to tell 
me your name ? You know mine, therefore I am at a 
disadvantage ; and see, we are at the gate of the 


88 


A Woman's No. 


shrubbery, and here I must say good-by to you, and 
thank you for your kindness, and run home and dry 
my unlucky feet. If you will not think it odd of me 
to ask it, tell me what your name is ? ” 

And then Lord Mannering for the space of two or 
three minutes was silent, not looking at his companion. 
Curiously enough, he felt totally disinclined to tell his 
name to this girl. The romance of their meeting — 
the fascination which she exercised over him, and 
which he vaguely felt to be reciprocal — the little tacit 
understanding which, in this second meeting, had 
been insensibly established between them — all, he 
felt, would be vanished and swept away in an instant, 
were Miss Forrester, Ida’s friend, to hear that he was 
Ida’s betrothed. Nay, more, would she not, good and 
true as he had been told she was, be justly indignant 
at the tone and manner of marked attention and ad- 
miration which he knew that he had imparted to the 
few remarks he had addressed to her. A moment 
more he dallied with the temptation ere he finally 
yielded to it. 

“ Why do you want to know my name ? ” looking 
at her with one of those fixed and penetrating glances 
with which men who have been long accustomed to 
success with women know how to establish their sway 
over a heart that is already half subject to them. As 
they had stood there under a leafy screen of arching 
trees, whose branches met over their heads. Lord Man- 
nering had idly broken off a spray from the nut bush 
behind him ; there was a little green cluster of nuts 
upon it, and as he marked how Hester’s lovely eyes 
sank beneath his, and how the rich blood mantled in 


A Cluster of Nuts. 


89 

her face, with an action half bold, half timid, but 
altogether caressing, he tapped the little bunch of nuts 
against her hand, that rested on the top of the garden 
gate. 

“ Do you want to know my name that you may 
think about me sometimes ? ” he said almost in a 
whisper, bending down towards her ; and then, seeing 
her silence and all her sweet confusion, his own blood 
warmed, and his heart beat, and he told himself that 
he would sooner die than tell her the truth. 

He did not think of what might be the consequences 
of his want of sincerity ; nor did it enter into his head 
to decide how and by what means the delusion he was 
about to practise upon her was to be kept up. The 
loneliness and silence of the spot, the soft twitter of 
the birds above them, the flicker of the sunshine 
amongst the leaves, the distant hum of the river be- 
hind them, and above all the beautiful woman before 
him, silent and confused, vnth all the — to him — well- 
known signs of a dawning love in her downcast face — 
all this bewildered his senses and turned his head. 
To speak the truth to her would be to destroy her 
interest in him and her respect for him forever. It 
came across him, in self-excuse, that perhaps he 
might never see her again, in Avhich case the harm 
done would be small ; and the temptation being great, 
and the consequences sufficiently remote, Lord Manner- 
ing yielded to his fate. 

“ My name is Florian,” he said. 

« Then good-by, Mr. Florian, for I must go,” said 
Hester, looking up with a smile, holding out her hand. 

He took the hand and raised it to his lips ; she 


90 


A Woman's No. 


snatched it hastily and confusedly away, and fled 
through the gate ; and with a flush of triumph upon 
his face, he turned away and strode down the hill out 
of her sight. 

But after he was quite, ^ quite gone, Hester crept 
softly back again to the shrubbery gate, and, with 
a guilty but secret sense of delight, she sought for the 
spray of nuts with which he had playfully^ tapped her 
hand. It lay on the ground where he had stood, and she 
picked it up and carried it home with her, and kept it 
forever. 


CHAPTER XI. 


LORD WILMERTOn’s GOUT. 

In his calmer moments Lord Mannering was inclined 
to look upon it as a providential thing that, the very 
next morning after his meeting with Miss Forrester by 
the Lennan side, he should have received a letter from 
his grandfather’s confidential servant, informing him 
that the old gentleman had so severe an attact of gout, 
and seemed so low and out of spirits about himself, 
that he, Drake, the valet, thought it would be very de- 
sirable if his lordship could come to him for a few days 

Lord Mannering pondered over this letter for some 
minutes at breakfast- time, so long, indeed, that Ida 
playfully recalled his attention to his eggs and ham 
which were getting cold upon his plate. 

If I stop here I shall be getting myself into a con- 
founded scrape,” he said to himself, with his eyes still 
fixed upon Drake’s missive. “ I shall behave like a 
blacfeguard to one or other of them, and make a miser- 
able man of myself into the bargain.” Then he folded 
up his letter, looked up resolutely at his hostess, and 
determined to make the worst of the news he had re- 
ceived. 

“ I am very sorry to say. Lady Cressida, that I shall 
have to leave you to-day. I have just received news of 
the severe illness of my grandfather.” 

91 


92 


A Woman's No. 


Lady Cressida was loud in her expressions of con- 
dolence and regret. 

Leave us to-day ! ” cried Mr. Greythorne ; “ quite 
impossible, Mannering ! Why, we are to shoot the 
Stenlock Moors to-day — the best day’s sport of the 
season — you can’t play us such a shabby trick as to run 
away to-day.” 

Mannering felt much disposed to repent of his new- 
born virtue when he heard the mention of the Stenlock 
Moors ; but Lady Cressida gave him no time to reply. 

“ My dear Tom,” she said to her husband, “ pray 
don’t be so unreasonable as to press him to stay when 
his grandfather is ill. Sorry as we shall be to lose you. 
Lord Mannering, I should be the last to urge you to 
remain away from poor dear old Lord Wilmerton — it 
is most important that you should go without delay. 
It is your sacred and Christian duty — and besides, he 
might alter his will.” 

Lady Cressida evidently considered this last argu- 
ment to be quite unanswerable. As to Ida, she said 
nothing — she only kept her eyes fixed upon her plate, 
and her color rose a little. Lord Mannering was 
rather nettled by her silence. After breakfast he went 
up to her as she stood in the embrasure of the window. 

“ Are you not sorry that I am obliged to go away ? ” 
he asked her. 

Of course I am sorry,” she answered, and then 
looking up into his face with a smile — that smile cost 
her an effort he never knew of — “ but you will come 
back again as soon as you can ? ” 

“You may be sure I shall,” he answered somewhat 
gravely. 


Lord Wilmerton's Gout. 


93 


So Lord Mannering departed with his baggage and 
his valet by the same way that he came — that is to say, 
by the identical dogcart that had brought him to 
Strathendale nearly a fortnight ago. 

There was no graceful figure in brown holland lean- 
ing over the parapet of the bridge as he crossed over 
theLennan on this occasion. He noticed the difference 
with a sigh. 

When I come back again I hope I shall have got 
over this folly,” he said to himself. ‘‘If I stayed 
here and saw her again I should fall in love with that 
woman ! As it is, time and distance and change of 
scene will bring me to my senses very soon, I daresay. 
And I trust I may be guilty of no further dereliction 
from my duty to Ida. After all, there can be no great 
harm done.” And again he sighed. But when his 
thoughts wandered from his own feelings to Hester’s 
his conscience reproached him sorely. He could not 
forget the downcast face, the heightened color, and 
the sh}^ glances of dawning love in those beautiful 
dark eyes ; he could not but know that his own image 
had probably filled her maiden dreams, and that her 
first waking thoughts would be, beyond a doubt, of 
himself ! 

“ I wish I had not deceived her about my name,” 
he said to himself regretfully ; “ but then, if I had not 
done so, what a blackguard she would have thought 
me ! And, as it is, I hope she may never see me 
again to find out the truth. I must arrange, by the 
way, that the wedding takes place in London, and not 
here. I can easily persuade Ida that it will please my 
family more ; she is a good little thing, and very fond 


94 


A Woman's No. 


of me in a quiet sort of way. She is sure to do what 
I ask her. And as to standing up here in Lennandale 
Church and being married, with the knowledge that 
Hester Forrester was behind my back looking on — why, 
for very shame I could not do it ! No, that is a catas- 
trophe I must at all risks prevent. I could never go 
through with it.” 

And here he reached the station, and very soon had 
left Strathendale with its moors and its rushing river, 
with all its memories, far behind him. 

“ I shall forget her now,” said Lord Mannering to 
himself, as the train bore him rapidly southwards. 
He leaned back in the corner of the carriage, lit his 
cigar, took out his Fields and for the time honestly be- 
lieved that he had already done so. 

Wilmerton Hall stood in a well- wooded park in one 
of the souther^ counties. The land was perfectly 
fiat and level ; there were plenty of woods, but no 
hills, and the roads in every direction were remarkably 
good. The station was a mile from the park gates, 
and it took you by a good train three minutes under 
the hour to get up to London. The hunting was fair, 
the pheasant shooting very good. Altogether, al- 
though not a large estate, it was, on the whole, a par- 
ticularly desirable one, and there were many advan- 
tages connected with it of which Lord Wilmerton’s 
heir was not at all unconscious. 

The house itself was neither old nor picturesque ; 
in point of fact, it had been built by Lord Wilmerton’s 
father, and having been constructed with a strict re- 
gard to internal comfort, and none whatever to exter- 
nal beauty, it was hideous to the last degree. It was a 


Lord Wilmerton^s Gout. 


95 


square white block of stuccoed brick, with a white- 
washed bell-tower in the center, and as many win- 
do avs on every side as a manufactory, all which did 
not in the least prevent its being extremely well 
arranged and comfortable within. 

When Mannering was ushered into his grandfather’s 
room he found the old gentleman propped up with 
pillows in an armchair, with his gouty foot swathed in 
cotton- wool and flannel on a leg-rest in front of him. 

Needless to say that the Earl was in the worst of 
tempers. The all-powerful Drake, who was valet, 
butler, secretary and friend all in one to his lordship, 
stood behind his master’s chair, and handed him, in re- 
spectful silence, papers, medicines, food and articles 
of toilet from a table behind him, Avhere everything 
he could possibly require was laid out, and from 
which he made constant and impatient demands for 
one thing or another every other minute. 

There was another occupant of the room — a lady 
of about fifty years of age — who sat at a little distance 
from the Earl, between his invalid chair and the win- 
dow. Of her, however, Florian took no notice on first 
entering the room. He advanced with outstretched 
hand to his grandfather’s side. 

“ My dear grandfather, I am truly sorry to find you 
so ill,” he said with concern. 

‘‘ Dear me, Florian, what on earth brings you home ? 
I thought you were courting up at Strathendale — A 
clean handkerchief, Drake, with plenty of lavender 
water — not eau-de-cologne, mind.” 

‘‘ I received a letter from Drake, sir, giving me so 
poor an account of you, that — ” 


96 


A Woman's No. 


“ And pray what business had you,” turning fiercely 
round to the attendant behind him, “what business 
had you to write and order his lordship to come home 
without my knowledge or permission ? ” 

The impenetrable Drake, too much accustomed to 
such outbursts, and too well experienced in these angry 
attacks on the part of his master to dream of offering 
any excuse or apology, maintained so perfect a silence, 
and so utter an impassiveness of physiognomy, that 
a stranger might have supposed him to be stone 
deaf. 

“ I felt too anxious about you, sir, to remain away,” 
continued Florian. “ I thought you would have been 
glad to see me — that my coming would have been a 
pleasure to you — ” 

“Well, well,” said the old man, slightly mollified, 
“ and so it is, my dear boy. You find me in a bad way, 
Florian, in a very bad way. But you haven’t spoken 
to Mrs. Tracy yet ; don’t you see her ? ” 

Lord Mannering turned round and shook hands with 
the lady, a fair, fat, soft-looking woman, with a sweet 
voice and a caressing manner of speaking, rather 
taking to a stranger, but apt, like the perpetual eating 
of honeycomb, to cloy . and weary after a time by its 
incessant sweetness. 

“ I am very glad to see you back. Lord Mannering,” 
she said with a smile of peculiar gentleness. “ I have 
been telling your dear grandfather if he would only be 
a little more careful about his precious Tiealth we 
should not have the pain of seeing him suffe? like this 
— that dreadful poisonous champagne, for instance.” 

“You talk a great deal of pernicious nonsense^ 


Lord Wilmerton's Gout. 97 

ma’am, like all the rest of your sex,” cried the Earl, 
savagely. ‘‘ Drake, open a bottle of Giesler.” 

Even Drake was tempted into a murmur of remon- 
strance. 

“ Dr. Fulton — my lord — ” 

“ Hold your tongue, you donkey, and do as I tell 
you. Fill two glasses — tumblers, not those stupid 
little cockle shells.” 

Drake filled the tumblers obediently, Mrs. Tracy 
and Florian looking on in horrified silence. The old 
man took them both from his servant and handed one 
of them to Mrs. Tracy. 

‘^Now, madam, drink my grandson’s health with 
me, and congratulate him on his approaching 
marriage.” 

« My dear Lord Wilmerton,” demurred Mrs. Tracy, 
fiattered, but slightly confused, “ at this hour in the 
morning, and champagne is so bad for your health ! ” 

“Drink the boy’s health, madam, and leave mine 
alone,” repeated the Earl, sternly. 

Mrs. Tracy looked frightened and began to drink 
her champagne hurriedly. A smile broke over the old 
man’s not unpleasant countenance. He just raised the 
glass to his lips, then handed it to his grandson. 

“Drink to your own good luck, my boy, and tell 
Mrs. Tracy to wish you happiness, and health, and 
plenty of children to carry on the old name.” 

A sigh of relief broke from Drake; and Florian, 
laughing at the old man’s little childish trick to 
frighten them all, tossed off the wine. 

“You must, indeed, allow me to congratulate you 
heartily,” said Mrs. Tracy, with an appearance of 
7 


A Woman’s No. 


98 

great and affectionate heartiness. “I hear Lady 
Cressida’s daughter is very nice.” 

‘‘ Charming, ma’am,” said Lord Wilmerton. 

‘‘ And very good-looking ? ’ 

“ Positively beautiful, Mrs. Tracy ; and she is rich 
and well born, and, better than all, she is strong — 
yes, strong^'' he repeated meaningly, looking at her 
with a malicious twinkle in his eye. “Never had a 
day’s illness in her life ; rides, walks, dances — healthy 
exercises — all day. She never lies on her back with 
a bit of crotchet work, nor messes with doctor’s stuff, 
nor spoils her constitution with pampered idleness. 
That’s the sort of woman to be my grandson’s wife.” 

Mrs. Tracy reddened, although, whether it was 
owing to the old man’s last remark, or to some other 
allusion best known to herself, it is difficult, perhaps, 
to say. Florian, too, looked somewhat confused. He 
hastened to change the subject. 

• “ I thought the corn looking very bad as I came 
along, sir.” 

“ I am afraid I must be going away,” said Mrs. Tracy, 
rising and shaking out her skirts. “You must come 
and tell me all about dear Lady Cressida another day. 
Lord Mannering. You know she and I were at school 
together, but although we have kept up a correspon- 
dence, I have hardly ever seen her since ; and I have 
never seen Miss Greythorne since she was a baby. I 
shall like to hear about her. Good-by, dear Lord 
Wilmerton. I do hope you will be a little better to- 
morrow.” 

She shook hands with both gentlemen effusively, 
and took her departure, Drake opening the door for 


Lord Wilmerton’s Gout. 99 

her, and following her out into the hall to usher her 
out of the house. 

Lord Wilmerton looked laughingly at his grandson. 
There goes the slyest old cat in Great Britain ! 
Did you see her get red, Florian ? ” 

Upon my word, sir, it was rather a shame. It is 
all so long ago, one can afford to let bygones alone.” 

‘‘ Pooh — pooh ! fair game ! Those two women 
angled for you hard enough. They’d have caught you 
too, you young idiot, if I hadn’t been too many for 
them ! ” 

‘‘ I daresay it was partly my fault,” said Florian, a 
little confusedly. 

‘‘ Of course it was. You always were an absolute 
fool about your love affairs ! However, that is all over 
now, I am happy to say ; you have made a very wise 
choice in the end, and I am glad to think all youthful 
indiscretions of that kind are laid aside forever. No 
more Persian slaves, eh, my boy ? nor penniless, low- 
born damsels, picked up Heaven knows where ? Give 
me your hand, boy ; and I am right glad to see you 
come to your senses, with a nice wife all ready for you.” 

Florian took his grandfather’s outstretched hand, 
and^ returned his cordial grasp; although whether 
his conscience was altogether at ease during the oper- 
ation, I leave it to the reader to imagine. 


Lore. 


CHAPTER XII. 


THE INMATES OF ORCHARD GRANGE. 

A ONE- STORIED housc, with two red-tiled gables, 
standing in about three acres of garden, upon the very 
outskirts of Wilmerton Park, and known by the name 
of Orchard Grange, was where, many years ago, Mrs. 
Tracy, then a still youthful widow, had come with her 
only child to establish herself. 

Nobody knew where she came from, nor who or 
what had been the defunct Tracy, for whose memory 
the widow wore such coquettish and becoming caps, 
and at the mention of whose name she invariably raised 
her fine cambric handkerchief so touchingly to her 
eyes. Whether he had been rich or poor — whether 
he had left his widow in affluent circumstances, or 
whether she struggled bravely to maintain her position, 
and to keep up a due regard for appearances — these 
were details upon which the neighborhood had not 
cared to inform itself. 

Truth to say, the neighborhood, being a particularly 
exclusive one, would have been well content to leave 
Mrs. Tracy unnoticed and undisturbed in her seclusion, 
had not the Earl of Wilmerton himself chosen to be- 
stow upon the lady of Orchard Grange the honor of a 
visit. Soon afterwards Lady Mannering, by her father- 
in-law’s desire, also left her cards upon Mrs. Tracy. 

100 


The Inmates of Orchard Grange. loi 

After that the rest of the world, of course, had followed 
suit, and Mrs. Tracy took her place triumphantly 
amongst the society of the county. 

How this wonderful and unprecedented event took 
place was best known to Mrs. Tracy herself, but it was 
generally believed that she had worked upon the Earl’s 
feelings by means of her little girl. The pale, dark- 
eyed child, then about twelve years old, was always to 
be seen stretched out upon an invalid chair in the 
garden, or drawn close up to the open window upon a 
couch. 

Every time Lord Wilmerton went in and out of his 
lodge gates he could not fail to see the touching picture 
over the low iron railings which divided the Grange 
garden from the park — the sick child on the sofa, and 
the pretty mother bending over her. There was 
generally a colored shawl over the couch, or a basket 
of roses at her feet, to add to the artistic effect of the 
picture. 

Sometimes the widow would be singing some plain- 
tive ditty to her daughter, and appear to be so absorbed 
in her occupation that it was not until the carriage 
from the Hall had nearly passed through the gates that 
she would look up with a blush and a start, as though 
distressed at having been detected in the exercise of 
her maternal devotion. 

This little scene, enacted with slight variations, was 
almost a daily occurrence ; and it was not wonderful 
that after a time Lord Wilmerton, who was young 
enough then to take interest in a pretty woman, 
and kind-hearted enough to feel a warm sympathy 
for her touchingly-displayed sorrows, should at last 


102 


A Woman's No. 


have become deeply impressed by the little domestic 
picture to be seen every day close to his own lodge 
gates. 

He began to make inquiries concerning Mrs. Tracy, 
and, naturally enough, he addressed himself to the 
clergyman, who in duty bound had called upon his 
new parishioner. 

Who was Mrs. Tracy ? The Rev. Mr. Blunt could 
not say ; but she seemed an excellent woman, a devoted 
mother, and had evidently seen much sorrow. 

What was the matter vv^ith the child ? A sad case ! 
A confirmed invalid — either spine complaint or hip 
disease, Mr. Blunt was not sure which. To the end of 
all things nobody else was ever quite sure what was 
the precise nature of Gertrude Tracy’s malady. 

Mrs. Tracy heard of these conversations between 
the Vicar and the Earl, and redoubled her efforts. She 
became more watchful than ever over Gertrude’s sick 
couch. Sometimes, even, as the Hall carriage drove 
by, the afflicted mother was seen to be weeping ; and 
once the couch was missing from the lawn, and Mrs. 
Tracy was descried pacing rapidly up and down, 
alternately wringing her hands despairingly and press- 
ing them wildly to her brow. 

On this occasion Lord Wilmerton stopped his car- 
riage at the Rectory to make inquiries. 

The child was more ill than usual, he was informed, 
and confined to bed. 

“ Is there nothing I can do for her, poor woman ? ” 
inquired the compassionate Earl. “ If I were to send 
down some grapes ? ” 

Indeed, I think it would be a very great kindness, 


The Inmates of Orchard Grange. 103 

my lord,” answered Mr. Blunt, earnestly, “for she 
told me this morning that the little girl can be tempt- 
ed with nothing. She is at her wits’ end what to give 
her ; and I don’t suppose she has much money to 
spend in luxuries.” 

That evening a basket of grapes, with the Earl’s 
compliments and kind inquiries, was brought down to 
Orchard Grange from the Hall. That was the begin- 
ning of good things. The grapes were succeeded by 
peaches and nectarines ; partridges and pheasants fol- 
lowed suit ; jelly and daintily-cooked dishes from the 
Hall kitchen to tempt the appetite of the little invalid ; 
port wine and champagne from my lord’s cellar to 
strengthen her returning convalescence. Whatever 
was the nature of Gertrude’s attack, it is certain that 
she and her mother fared sumptuously every day dur- 
ing its continuance. At length, however, the child’s 
couch appeared once more upon the lawn ; and Mrs. 
Tracy, interestingly pale, of course, from her nights’ 
watchings and anxieties, but tearfully and modestly 
grateful, had the supreme delight of receiving the 
Earl of Wilmerton in her small, prettily-furnished 
drawing-room, and of thanking him fervently, but not 
with any undue obsequiousness, for his attentions to 
her child during her illness. 

“ It is my belief she would have died without your 
kindness,” she said, turning away her head to hide her 
falling tears ; and Lord Wilmerton pressed her hand, 
and thought her a very pretty woman indeed. 

After that, the Wilmerton carriage stopped very 
often at the modest doorway of the Grange, so often, 
indeed, that the neighbors began to prick up their ears 


104 


A Woman's No. 


and open their eyes ; and it was for some time cur- 
rently believed that a second Countess of Wilmerton, 
most unsuitable in every way to the position, would 
shortly reign at the Hall. Whether or no this was 
Mrs. Tracy’s ambition, and whether, if so, she was 
ever any way near to the realization of such a scheme, 
was never accurately known ; but just at the time 
when gossip and scandal were most busy with reports 
and rumors, and when expectations was on tiptoe as 
to what would happen next, to the surprise of every- 
body the Earl suddenly packed up his portmanteaus, 
shut up the Hall entirely, and went abroad for nearly 
two years. 

When he came back everything was evidently al- 
tered. He was still Mrs. Tracy’s friend, but he was 
no longer her devoted adorer. Practical benefits — 
game, fruits and vegetables — still streamed in constant 
succession, by his especial orders, from the big house 
to the little one, but the personal devotion of the 
sender Avas Avanting, and the barouche stopped but 
seldom at the Grange doors. 

Moreover, Lord Wilmerton had a Avay of alluding to 
his relations with the widoAV, and of sneering at the 
habits and customs of widoAVS generally, which led those 
who heard him to suspect that something had opened 
his eyes to the real character of his neighbor. 

Widows Avere all “ sly cats,” “ deep as pudding,” ac- 
cording to him ; they were adepts at flattery, and 
given to shedding “ crocodile tears and once he was 
heard to remark that Mrs. Tracy was a very fascina- 
ting and clever Avoman ; that he had a sincere regard 
for her because she always amused him ; but that h^ 


The Inmates of Orchard Grange. 105 

had been fortunate enough on one occasion to find 
her out.” 

As to Mrs. Tracy, she was not slow to turn the course 
of events to her own advantage. She spoke of the Earl 
constantly as the ‘‘ dearest, the kindest of friends ” ; 
but she never failed to add that his age and eccentrici- 
ties would prevent any woman still young from regard- 
ing him in any other relation. Nor did she fail fre- 
quently to hint that she herself might, if she had 
chosen, have been more than a mere friend to him, but 
that her own good sense and knowledge of the differ- 
ence in their positions had prevented her from taking 
advantage of his proposals. 

Years went by, and fresh hopes and ambitions 
dawned upon the widow’s mind. Young Lord Man- 
nering was now rapidly growing up, and he spent most 
of his vacations, when at home from Oxford, at his 
grandfather’s house. 

It was natural that, being of a dreamy and some- 
what sentimental turn of mind, and being fond of 
woman’s society, he should often take refuge from the 
dulness of the Hall in the more genial atmosphere of 
the Grange. 

Gertrude was two years older than himself ; she 
had most of her mother’s shrewdness and some of her 
mother’s good looks ; she still retained her invalid 
habits and her supposed delicacy of constitution ; and 
Florian, who was tender-hearted and impressionable, 
was filled with so much compassion and pity for her, 
that it appeared to himself to amount to love. 

Gertrude was the confidante of his first poetical ef- 
forts I to her he addressed endless sonnets and stanzas, 


io6 


A Woman’s No. 


and to her ears alone he poured forth these early and 
probably unspeakably foolish, compositions. For the 
whole of one summer vacation Lord Mannering was to 
be found incessantly by Gertrude’s sofa ; and Mrs. 
Tracy, passing occasionally in and out of the room, 
watched the two heads close together, with all the 
manuscripts of poems scattered on the table between 
them, and heard the young man’s low voice as he read 
his verses aloud to his companion, and it is small won- 
der, perhaps, that her hopes and her fancies ran on 
ahead, and that she pictured to herself a match for her 
sickly child such as in her wildest dreams she had 
never before dared to look forward to. Lord Manner- 
ing’s extreme youth — he was only twenty — and her 
daughter’s two years of seniority appeared to her as 
mere trifles ; already she looked upon him as her future 
son-in-law, and told herself that far more wonderful 
and unexpected things had often taken place. 

But her plans were not destined to come to fruition. 
Lord Wilmerton got wind of what was going on. One 
morning he came down on foot to the Grange with 
a brow as black as thunder, and remained closeted for 
upwards of an hour in the dining-room with the 
widow. 

What took place during that interview even Gertrude 
never knew. Listening, trembling outside in the pas- 
sage, she could only tell that many high words and 
angry recriminations passed between them, and that 
finally the Earl went away in high dudgeon, stern and 
angry, whilst her mother was left drowned in tears of 
rage and mortification. 

The belligerents made it up after a time, and became 


The Inmates of Orchard Grange. 107 

— outwardly, at least — the best of friends again ; but 
young Lord Mannering came no more to read his poetry 
at the Grange, and it was many months before he was 
seen at all again in the neighborhood, whilst Mrs 
Tracy gave her daughter distinctly to understand that 
the game was altogether hopeless, and must be aban- 
doned. 

All that was long ago. Mrs. Tracy was now fifty 
years old, and was still fat and fair and good-looking 
for her years. She smiled and fawned upon her an- 
cient admirer, and was glad enough now to be reck- 
oned amongst his friends, so that she might not lose 
the trilling presents from his gardens and his larder, 
of which she could boast with easy superiority to her 
less-favored neighbors. 

“ The dear old Earl,” she would say, ^ has sent me 
such lovely peaches, ” or such a handsome present of 
game ! He never forgets me. It is so nice when one’s 
old friends retain all their affectionate regard for one ! 
But he and I have always been such fast friends ! ” 

But Gertrude Tracy neither smiled nor fawned upon 
aiiy one. She was now nine-and-twenty, although her 
mother always gave her out to be four years less, and 
disappointment and a constant indulgence in invalid 
habits had completely soured and embittered her. 
Truth to say, the one romance of Gertrude’s life — the 
one softening spot in her existence — ^the one tender 
memory in her heart — ^had been that summer long ago, 
when Lord Mannering had written poems to her eyes, 
and had read them out to her in the long sunny after- 
noons. 

As much as it was in Gertrude’s power to love any- 


io8 


A Woman's No. 


body she had loved Florian. lie was the one lover 
who had ever come into her solitary life. Her heart, her 
vanity and her ambition had been all equally flatteivd 
and carried away by his devotion and attention. 
When he went away, and she was told that she must 
give him up and think of him no more, she felt as if she 
should die of grief and mortification. After a time she 
recovered from the grief, but the mortification still 
endured. 

She had never recovered from that. All her love had 
curdled and turned to gall and wormwood within her. 
The man she had once loved she now hated with a 
hatred all the more intense because it was carefully 
and studiously hidden even from her mother’s eyes. 
But if she hated the grandson, still more did she hate 
the grandfather whose verdict had spoiled her life. 

She met him, of course, constantly, and of late years, 
too, she had often seen Florian again — Florian, who 
looked upon the romance of her life as a youthful 
folly to be smiled over — ^whilst Gertrude dreamed of 
revenge ! 

It may be imagined with Avhat feelings Gertrude 
Tracy heard of Lord Mannering’s engagement to Miss 
Greythorne, and how her busy brain wore itself till it 
ached with plots and plans to upset the satisfaction of 
the old man who had injured her, and of the young 
man who had forsaken her. 

When her mother came back from Wilmerton and 
told her sh# had seen Lord Mannering, Gertrude’s 
heart stood still for a minute and her pale cheek turned 
yet a shade paler at the news. 

“ Home is he ? ” she said contemptuously. “ How 


The Inmates of Orchard Grange. 109 

has he managed to tear himself away from his new 
love ? ” 

“ He says he was anxious about Lord Wilmerton’s 
gout,” answered her mother, who was taking off her 
bonnet and gloves, and was slightly flushed after her 
walk and her unusual potation of champagne. 

As if the old man had never had gout before I It 
does not look as if he was very keen about Miss Grey- 
thorne, does it, mamma ? ” 

‘‘ Oh, I believe she is perfect ! ” said her mother, 
carelessly. 

Did Florian ask after me? ’’.inquired Gertrude, 
after a minute. 

‘‘ He never even mentioned your name ! My dear 
child, you surely don’t care after all these years ? ” 

“ I care ? certainly not ! ” Gertrude answered sharply. 
And then she was silent for some time. 

She rested her thin, white face upon her hand, and 
looked away out of the window immovably for many 
minutes. She was pondering deeply. 


CHAPTER XIII. 


Ida’s despair. 

After her lover had gone away from Strathendale, 
Ida Greythorne experienced a sense of such unmistak- 
able relief, that she was quite astonished and bewildered 
at herself. 

‘^What can be the matter with me? ’’she said to 
herself, half in alarm at her own sensations. “ Surely 
it cannot be natural that I should be glad that Man- 
nering is gone, merely because I want to see Dick 
Forrester again ! ” for Ida could not — or possibly she 
would not — give the right name to her feelings. 

She knew that she was bitterly miserable about 
Dick, but she assured herself also that, having had an 
unlucky quarrel with her old playfellow, it was only nat- 
ural that she should be unhappy at thje idea of his going 
away for so many years without making it up with him 
before he started. 'No wonder that her thoughts were 
more filled with this just now than with anything else. 
Could one put all one’s old friends completely out of 
one’s head, and take no more interest in them and their 
doings just because one happened to be engaged to be 
married to a person who six months ago was an utter 
stranger ? Such a thing, Ida told herself, was clearly 
impossible ! But although she was thus ignorant of 
the very alphabet of love, she shrank with a vague 


Ill 


Ida’s Despair. 

feeling of uneasiness from analyzing too minutely that 
curious sensation of light-heartedness that came upon 
her as she stood watching the retreating dogcart 
down the avenue that was hearing her betrothed away 
out of her sight. 

Kow, she thought, as she went hack into the house, 
now Dick would come and see her, and wish her good- 

by. 

It never occurred to her to doubt for one instant 
that Hester had delivered her message to her brother, 
and having received it, of course he would come. 
When had not Dick flown to do her bidding at all 
times ? She had been always a queen to him, and he 
the very humblest and most obedient of her slaves. 

So she waited in perfect confidence, refusing to 
leave the house for fear he should come in her absence, 
and determining to be at home when he should pay 
his expected visit. 

Almost directly after Lord Mannering’s departure, 
the weather, that had been unusually fine for some 
time, suddenly broke ; torrents of rain and gales of 
wind succeeded each other day after day ; the moors 
were shrouded in mist ; the Lennan rushed wildly and 
angrily between its boulders, and whole gusts of 
yellow leaves came whirling down from the woods in 
every direction. 

About the same time the party staying at the Castle 
dispersed — the gentlemen went on to fulfil other 
shooting engagements, and the ladies to pay other 
visits, so that one by one having departed, the family 
trio was finally left alone in the house. Days went 
by, and still Dick did not come, Ida began to 


TI2 


A Woman’s No. 


feel very uneasy and anxious about him; then she 
grew indignant and angry, and told herself he was 
harsh and ill-mannered, and not worthy of the interest 
she took in him. That lasted for two days, during 
which she felt far too proud to write to him, and too 
deeply hurt by his neglect of her to make any effort to 
go to The Cottage herself. But when a woman really 
loves, as Ida all unconsciously did, pride is of very 
little permanent help to her in her troubles. When 
the Monday came, and brought with it no sign of Dick, 
and Ida reflected that he was to leave at seven o’clock 
on the Wednesday morning, Ida laid aside her pride 
and her indignation, and determined that she would 
make an effort to go to The Cottage on Monday. 

At luncheon time she ordered her pony-carriage to 
be brought round. 

‘‘ Going out driving, my dear ? ” said her father in 
surprise ; “ why, it is raining hard, and blowing a 
perfect gale ! ” 

“ I can’t help it, papa ; I have been in four whole 
days. I shall be ill if I don’t get a little fresh air. I 
shall put on a waterproof cloak ; the rain is nothing 
much — it won’t hurt me.” 

“ I think, dear child,” said her mother, ‘‘ that I will 
go with you. I, too, feel quite ill from being conflned 
to the house for so many days ; I think, as you say, 
that a breath of fresh air will do us both good.” 

Whether Lady Cressida had or had not any ulterior 
object in thus volunteering to accompany her daughter, 
I will leave it to the intelligent reader to divine. 
Certain it is, that had any one taken the trouble to 
remark the fact, they might have noticed that her 


113 


Ida’s Despair. 

ladyship had never lost sight of her child for twenty 
consecutive minutes since Lord Mannering’s depar- 
ture. 

It was impossible for Ida to decline her mother’s 
society ; there was nothing for her to do but to smile 
and looked pleased, and to say how happy she should 
be to take her out in her pony-carriage. 

The two ladies, wrapped Mp in cloaks and rugs 
started duly from the door after lunch, in a fine driz- 
zling mist, that made Mr. Greythorne laughingly 
remark as he watched them depart from the hall door, 
that they had certainly chosen a singular method of 
‘‘ going a- pleasuring.” 

“ I thought of going round by The Cottage,” said 
Ida as unconcernedly as she could, though her heart 
beat a little as she said the words. 

‘‘ Dear me ! we had much better go along the upper 
road, my dear ; it will be so much easier to turn back 
if it comes on worse ; and getting in and out, if they 
are at home, will be such a nuisance in the rain.” 

‘‘ I haven’t seen Hester for nearly a week — ^I want 
to ask her if she has finished copying the song I lent 
her ; I really want it back.” 

And without more ado she turned her ponies’ heads 
along the lower road that led to the bridge over the 
Lennan. 

Lady Cressida felt that no good could be got by dis- 
puting the point. She submitted to be taken to The 
Cottage, reflecting that even if its inmates were at 
home, not much harm could be done under her own 
keen and watchful eyes. 

The pretty little carriage, with the two smart ponies 
8 


A Woman’s No. 


114 

that stepped so daintily up to their noses, pursued its 
way down the very heavy and muddy lane to the 
bridge, and then turned short round on the opposite 
bank and began slowly to climb the rather steep and 
weary hill that led to The Cottage. 

The groom rang the bell at the modest porch and 
the maid answered the door. Oh, how Ida’s heart 
beat ! 

“ Is Mrs. Forrester in ? ” inquired Lady Cressida, 
already fingering her card case. 

“ No, my lady ; the Colonel and Mrs. Forrester are 
both out walking,” replied the maid. 

And Miss Forrester ? ” inquired Ida, hastily. 

“ She has just gone out too, miss, into the village.” 

“ Dear me, what a pity ! ” said Lady Cressida, airily 
and unconcernedly, and proceeded to deal out a whole 
sheaf of cards into the footman’s hand. 

Then Ida grew desperate. 

‘‘ Oh, mamma, do ask if Dick is in ! ” she said under 
her breath. 

“ My dear ! ” exclaimed Lady Cressida, with a hor- 
rified dismay in her face and voice, as though she 
could not rightly believe her ears, “ inquire for a young 
man ! — such a thing is never done ! ” 

“ But, mamma, he is going to India. I should so 
like to see him again ! ” pleaded Ida, despairingly and 
recklessly. 

“ I never heard of such a thing in my life, Ida. You 
must have taken leave of your senses. Pray drive on 
immediately,” said Lady Cressida, coldly and sternly. 

But Ida stretched out across her mother and called 
out to the maid, — 


Ida's Despair. ii5 

« When does Mr. Dick leave, Mary ? ” 

“ On Wednesday, miss, at seven o’clock in the 
morning.” 

She had no further excuse for lingering. The 
groom, at a sign from Lady Cressida, jumped up be- 
hind, and she was perforce obliged to drive on. 

The next day — the last of Dick’s stay in his home — 
Ida felt pretty well distracted. At one moment she 
told herself that Dick was certain to come — that he 
had only put off his visit to her until the last, and that 
it was quite impossible that he could go away without 
seeing her once more ; at another moment she wept 
and wailed and wrung her hands distractedly, moan- 
ing aloud that she would see him no more, that he 
hated and loathed her, and would go away forever 
without a word of farewell and forgiveness. 

The day wore away — stormy, rainy, and blowy, like 
its predecessors. Ida made no effort to go out to-day ; 
she only stood despairingly at the drawing-room 
window, doing literally nothing, only pressing her hot 
hands together and gazing across at The Cottage 
gables half hidden in the woods, with an amount of 
utter wretchedness and misery in her face which she 
did not even care to conceal. 

Lady Cressida, watching her with her sharp, shrewd 
eyes, saw it all with a little smile that was not al- 
together unfeeling. 

“ She will be all right in twenty-four hours,” she 
said to herself ; “ poor child, I daresay she feels as if 
it would kill her. I remember when I was seventeen 
feeling much the same about that knock-kneed curate 
with the stammer, when my dear mother so wisely 


A Woman's No. 


ii6 

sent me away from home. I soon got over it and 
felt thankful to her for saving me from my own folly, 
and so will Ida, poor child, very soon. Thank good- 
ness, that young man goes to-morrow. In a week’s 
time Mannering probably will be back again, and that 
will divert her thoughts and put her all right. Poor 
little girl, I am sorry for her just now, though. But 
girls’ hearts are very elastic, fortunately, and not easily 
broken.” 

Thus Lady Cressida consoled herself. But there 
was no consolation for Ida ! Ida only felt as if she 
should die ! Lord Mannering — her engagement — her 
position as Miss Greythorne of Strathendale — the fact, 
even, that Dick had never asked for any love and 
affection at her hands — all was forgotten ! She onlj^ 
knew that Dick — her own Dick — was going away, and 
that if she could not wish him God-speed on his 
distant travels it would kill her ! 

She half expected, with the wild impatience of the 
young under suffering that seems to them unbearable, 
that something unprecedented would happen — some 
great event take place — some wonderful convulsion of 
life be suddenly made in her favor to save her from 
the realization of her pain. But there was no miracle 
worked upon her behalf. 

Only the afternoon wore itself away. The daylight 
faded, twilight wrapped the stormy world without in 
its gray and misty shroud ; the footman came in to 
draw the curtains and to light the candles. The 
dressing-bell rang, and she was obliged to go and array 
herself in her pretty blue and white gossamer dress, 
with its blue ribbons and white laces ; and then to 


Ida's Despair. 117 

sit between her father and mother all through the 
long solemnity of dinner, with its six courses, in their 
tedious, and interminable length. But she could not 
talk ; she felt too sick and ill at heart either to eat 
or to speak. 

“ What is the matter, Ida ? ” asked her father more 
than once. ‘‘ You have not spoken a word, and you 
have eaten nothing.” 

« I think Ida has a headache,” interposed her mother, 
with the kindly wish to save her from the pain of 
answering. 

“ What ! pining for your lover, pussy ? ” said her 
father, playfully. 

Ida winced, and grew red all over her white, wan 
face. But she was too utterably miserable to feel for 
more than one minute the shame which her father’s 
chance remark had called forth. 

After dinner it was her mother who, kissing her 
kindly, said to her, — 

‘^I think, dearest, you had better go to bed. Your 
head seems aching frightfully, and I am sure you don’t 
look fit to sit up.” 

And the girl went away to her own room, grateful 
to be released. 

But not to bed. She only flung her window wide 
open, and sat there staring wildly and miserably into 
the dark and stormy night. Away across the valley, all 
through the mist of rain which swept over the land, she 
could see lights in The Cottage windows. She knew 
them all, every one — the drawing-room, and Mrs. For- 
rester’s bedroom above, and Dick’s own little den on the 
ground floor, where he always sat up every night read- 


A Woman's No. 


ii8 

ing or writing. Ida knew them all, and could picture to 
herself the occupations of the whole family in each of 
the rooms that was lighted up — the mother and Hester 
finishing off the packing upstairs, Colonel Forrester 
reading or writing in the drawing-room, and Dick in his 
own little den. 

Ah ! what was he doing ! Thinking of her probably, 
perhaps as miserably and despairingly as she was of 
him ! The picture of his loneliness and wretchedness 
was so plainly in her mind, that Ida almost felt as if she 
could actually see him. 

She watched at the window for a long, long time. 
Then, one by one, first the lights in the drawing-room 
and then those in the bedroom were extinguished ; but 
the candle in Dick’s room on the ground fioor still 
burned on brightly and steadily. He had evidently no 
intention of going to bed yet. 

Meanwhile the inmates of the Castle itself had retired 
to rest. Ida heard her father and mother come up- 
stairs to their rooms, the footsteps of her lady’s-maid 
along the passage, and then the gradual dying away of 
all sounds into absolute silence. 

Dick’s candle still burned like a beacon-light across 
the valley. 

Suddenly there darted into Ida’s mind a suggestion 
so wild and so startling that it positively took away 
her breath. 

At first she repelled the terrifying thought. 

“ It is impossible ! ” she said aloud, terror-stricken 
and trembling. 

But the thought came again and again with such 
persistence that the vague idea became a resolution, 


Ida's Despair. 119 

and the resolution strengthened itself rapidly into ab- 
solute action. 

Hurriedly she wrapped herself in a long waterproof 
ulster that buttoned down to her feet ; enveloped her 
head closely in a thick, soft north-country plaid ; ex- 
changed her thin shoes for a pair of thick country boots ; 
and slipping hastily downstairs, crept out of the silent 
house by a small window of the conservatory that was 
usually left unfastened, and in two minutes more she 
stood alone in the darkness of the stormy night. 


CHAPTER XIV. 


THE LENNAN STEPPIKG-STONES. 

A WILD, wet night ! The wind blew, and the rain 
came down in a cold, unceasing mist, and the Lennan 
roared and foamed, angry and surly, between its rocky 
banks. 

The stepping-stones were all submerged — not deeply 
so, for the rainfall at so early a period of the autumn 
was seldom sufficient to render them actually impass- 
able — but over each hidden white stone there swept a 
swift current of six or eight inches of water, that swirled 
away over them, and tossed itself beyond in a sheet of 
snowy eddies, gleaming weirdly and whitely out of the 
darkness. 

All day long the country people, bare-legged, and 
armed with long poles, had splashed and floundered 
backwards and forwards across them ; but it was a very 
different matter for a delicately-nurtured girl, thinly 
clad and shod, to cross them in the black darkness of 
the stormy night. 

In after days Ida often marveled to herself how she 
had ever accomplished that difficult and dangerous 
passage ; she wondered how she could possibly have 
done it. Nothing but the devotion of a despairing love 
could ever have endowed her with strength and courage 
enough for the enterprise. She had, it is true, taken a 
120 


The Lennan Stepping-Stones. I2t 

stout walking-stick of her father’s with her, but in her 
haste, although she had slipped off her evening-dress 
and put on a dark serge skirt in its place, she had for- 
gotten to change her white petticoat or her delicate silk 
stockings. In half a minute these were naturally 
enough saturated with water and mud ; the fine lace 
and embroidery of her dainty skirt was drabbled and 
torn, and before she had taken half a dozen steps 
through the stormy waters she was simply wet through 
up to her knees. She soon found it almost impossible 
to keep her footing upon the stepping-stones. The 
darkness, the deafening swirl of the water in her ears, 
the blinding mist of rain that drove into her face, the 
vrind that almost blew her down, and the current that 
in its strength well-nigh swept her off her feet — all 
combined to render her passage not only extremely slow, 
but also excessively dangerous. Had Ida not been born 
and bred within the sound of Lennan waters she never 
would have reached the opposite shore alive that night. 
A stranger must infallibly have perished ; but there 
were one or two things which gave her confidence, and 
which enabled her to pursue her way safely. 

One was the intimate knowledge that she possessed 
of the river. She knew that if she only kept close 
above the stepping-stones, even if she was unable to 
keep upon them, she could not possibly be drowned, 
because the river here was at its shallowest. There 
were deep, dangerous holes further down, and rough, 
broken waters where she would surely perish were she 
to be swept into them ; but so long as she could keep 
her footing upon or close to the stones, she knew that, 
although she might get wet through, she could not by 


122 


A Woman's No. 


any means be drowned. The only thing she had to do 
^ was to prevent being swept off her feet by the violence 
of the current. To insure this, Ida recollected the in- 
structions which years ago Dick had given her in her 
childhood, when, once belated on the farther side, he 
had helped her across the swollen river at a time when 
it was in nearly as bad a state as now. He had told her 
then to wade upon the bed of the river — not helow^ but 
above the stepping-stones. In this manner, though she 
might be thrown down by the violence of the water, 
she could never be swept down the stream, for by cling- 
ing on to the stones themselves she would easily be 
enabled to regain her footing. Ida, with an amount of 
coolness and presence of mind which one would hardly 
have given her credit for, remembered and acted upon 
this recollection now in the hour of danger. 

And so somehow, faint and weary, and wet to the 
skin, she at length accomplished her object, and 
reached the opposite shore of the river, and sinking 
down utterly exhausted upon the grassy bank, she re- 
mained for some minutes perfectly incapable of moving 
any farther on her way. 

Meanwhile, all unconscious of what the woman he 
loved was going through in order to see his face once 
more, Dick Forrester sat alone in his little room by 
the light of his one candle that had gleamed so brightly 
and alluringly across the valley that divided them 
from each other. He was sitting up writing to her. 
It was a letter of eternal farewell — a letter in which 
all the love and the bitterness, and the despair of his 
life were concentrated. He opened his heart to her, 
laying bare all its tenderness and passion, and all its 


The Lennan Stepping-Stones. 123 

misery and anguish. It was like the letter of a dying 
man. He believed he should never see her again, and 
he wanted to tell her, ere he left her, all the story of 
his hopeless love. 

He wrote and wrote — line after line fell from his 
rapid pen — ^page after page lay wet with ink upon the 
table before him. In all his life he had written no 
such letter — he would never write such a letter again. 

But before it was finished — ^before the last words of 
his despair and wretchedness were inscribed upon the 
page before him — all at once Dick Forrester’s life was 
altered for him forever. 

Suddenly he looked up, as if by some irresistible in- 
stinct, and beheld, from the darkness without, a face, 
white and wet and grief- stricken, pressed against the 
window pane without. 

In the first moment of terror and of amazement, it 
seemed to him that she must be dead, and that it was 
her spirit that had come to visit him. And then, with 
a wild rush of bewildered hope that set his heart beat- 
ing, and his pulses ringing with a new and nameless 
sensation, he fiew to the window and flung it open. 
Out of the darkness and the storm, and the driving 
rain without, she made one step into the room, then 
sank down half fainting at his feet in her dripping 
cloak ; the plaid that was wrapped round her head fell 
back from her shoulders, and all her wet golden hair 
streamed wild and disordered about her lovely face. 

She could not speak, she could not even look at 
him ; she could only clasp her hands against her wet 
cheek, and lie there all in a heap on the floor at his feet. 

Ida ! great heavens ! ” he exclaimed, breathless 


124 


A Woman's No. 


and frightened, yet with that wild, tumultuous joy at 
his heart such as comes hut seldom to men in their 
lives, “ how did you get here ? What has brought you, 
my child ? You are wet to the skin ! ” 

“ I crossed the river ! ” she said with a gasp. 

The river ! Good heavens ! such a night as this ! 
What made you do it ?” 

“ You wouldn’t come. I had never wished you good- 
by. How could I let you go without seeing you ? ” 

And then her head fell back and she fainted. 

Dick flew into the adjoining dining-room and fetched 
some Avine in trembling haste from the sideboard. 
He lifted her on to the sofa, and as she revived a little 
made her drink what he had poured out for her, and 
then took her wet plaid and cloak from her shoulders. 

“What am I to do with you?” he exclaimed in 
great distress. “You are literally wet through! I 
must call my mother.” 

“No — no; for heaven’s sake!” gasped Ida, breath- 
lessly. “ I am better now. I was only a little faint. 
Dick, I should die of shame if any one knew I had been 
here. Besides, I must go back almost directly. I 
dare not stay ; I might be missed. I never catch cold ; 
it won’t hurt me to be wet.” 

“As if I should let you go back alone across the 
Lennan ! It is a miracle you were not drowned on 
such a night. Oh ! Ida, my own darling, is it indeed 
for me — for your poor Dick, who loves you so devotedly 
— that you have done this wonderful thing ? ” 

And then he sank at her feet and pressed her hands 
wildly and passionately to his lips. 

“ I must go — I must go ! ” cried Ida, awakening, 


The Lennan Stepping-Stones. 125 

perhaps for the first time, to a sense of the position 
to which her desperate and impulsive action had 
brought her. “ I only meant to say good-by, and to 
wish you every happiness, dear, dearest Dick, and to 
make up our last quarrel before you went away for- 
ever. Oh! Dick, please — please don’t kiss me like 
that. I am afraid I have done very wrong. Please 
let me go now.” 

For Dick had not remained satisfied with kissing 
her hands. He had seated himself now upon the sofa 
by her side, and had drawn the lovely head, all drip- 
ping and wet as it was, closely down upon his bosom, 
and was showering down hot kisses upon her burning 
cheeks. 

“ As if I should let you go and leave me now ! ” ex- 
claimed Dick, triumphantly — ‘‘ now that I know that 
you love me, my own darling.” 

“ Oh, Dick ” — struggling, but not very effectually, 
to free herself from his encircling arms — what do you 
mean ? Indeed — indeed, you must not say such things. 
You know I am engaged to Lord Mannering. I only 
meant to say good-by to you. You must not kiss me, 
indeed you must not — not like that at least. Lord 
Mannering — ” 

‘‘Look here, Ida,” interrupted Dick, taking her face 
between his two hands and lifting it up so that he 
forced her to look into his eyes, “ do not let there be 
any more sham or pretence between you and me. You 
may be engaged to Lord Mannering, but you do not 
love him, and you do love me.” 

“ Oh, Dick,” she faltered, lowering her eyes beneath 
the fire of his, 


126 


A Woman's No. 


“ You know that what I say is true. Do you suppose 
that after this night I will believe that you care for 
any other man on earth but me ? And no, don’t try to 
turn your head away, because I am not going to let 
you. Look at me in the face if you can, and tell me 
that you would have done this — what you have done 
for me — ^just to see me again, for any man on earth 
whom you did not love with your whole heart and soul ? 
Ida, you know you love me. ISTo power in heaven and 
earth shall ever make me believe now that you don’t. 
And if you love me, then I mean to win you. From 
this hour, Ida, Lord Mannering is to be nothing more 
to you ! You are going to give him up for me.” 

“ Oh, Dick, I dare not — indeed I dare not ; think of 
mamma ! she will never hear of it. Indeed it is better 
that you should forget me ; I should never dare to 
break my engagement.” 

Oh, yes, Ida, you will ; a woman who can wade 
through the Lennan on a night like this, for the sake 
of the man she loves, can dare anything ; and before 
you leave this room you are going to promise me — ” 
But Ida, whose face was towards the door, suddenly 
uttered a cry of dismay, and wrenched herself away 
from Dick’s arms. Turning round he beheld his 
mother arrayed in her night-gown and dressing-gown, 
flat candlestick in hand, standing speechless in the 
doorway. 

I heard voices — I came to see what it was. Good 
Heavens, Dick, who is with you?” 

Come in, mother, it is only Ida,” said Dick, rising 
awkwardly enough from Ida’s side. But Ida buried her 
face, crimson with shame, amongst the sofa cushions. 


CHAPTER XV. 


HOW IDA SLEPT AT THE COTTAGE. 

When- Mrs. Forrester began rightly to understand 
from Ida’s incoherent and tearful words, and from 
Dick’s half-shamefaced and half-triumphant explana- 
tions, that the heiress of Greythorne had actually 
walked across the Lennan in such weather at half-past 
ten o’clock at night, she was neither indignant nor 
angry, as poor Ida expected her to be, but was, on the 
contrary, filled with a great tenderness of heart towards 
the girl who had ventured upon so brave and desperate 
a deed for the sake of her darling son. 

It seemed to her that Ida had behaved nobly in thus 
setting at nought all considerations of prudence and of 
worldly wisdom, in order to show thus plainly her 
affection and her preference for one who, surely in the 
mother’s eyes, was worthy of the best and richest 
woman in the land. Mrs. Forrester did not at all 
wonder that any girl should be capable of losing her 
head as well as her heart for handsome Dick. The only 
wonder to her was that any one could have hesitated 
for one instant in preferring him to every other man 
alive. 

But whilst these thoughts rushed through her brain, 
others of a more practical nature impelled her into in- 
127 


128 


A Woman^s No. 


stant and most motherly attentions. She was truly 
distressed and horrified by Ida’s wet and shivering 
condition. 

‘‘You must come upstairs with me instantly, my 
dear, and be thoroughly warmed and dried, and got to 
bed, and I will prepare you something hot to take or 
else we shall have you laid up with rheumatic fever. 
Come, we must not lose a moment, you dear, impru- 
dent, impulsive child ! ” 

“ Oh, but, Mrs. Forrester, indeed I must not stay. I 
must get home or mamma will find out I have been 
here ; indeed — indeed I must go back ! ” 

“Go back! Are you mad, Ida? As if I should 
allow you to go back in the way you came on such a 
night! It is absolutely impossible; you must stop 
here until the morning.” 

“Oh, Mrs. Forrester,” cried Ida beginning for the 
first time to realize all the consequences of her es- 
capade, “ for Heaven’s sake don’t keep me. I will walk 
round by the bridge if you like, but go I must. I had 
rather be laid up for weeks than that mamma and papa 
should find out what I have done.” 

“ Come, Ida, don’t be foolish, my dear. You know 
very well that sooner or later your parents must know 
it. You will have to brave their anger for Dick’s sake, 
you know ; but to such a courageous, noble girl, as you 
have shown yourself to be, this, I am sure, will be no 
permanent obstacle. Oh ! my dear child, how wise 
you have been to free yourself from a life of misery, 
and to follow the dictates of your own true and honest 
heart.” 

Poor Ida wrung her hands in despair. Why 


How Ida Slept at the Cottage. 129 

would they both persist in assuming that this nocturnal 
visit to Dick was tantamount to breaking off her en- 
gagement to Lord Mannering, and to engaging herself 
to Dick Forrester ? Both mother and son seemed to 
take it for granted that such was her intention, where- 
as no such thought had entered her head. 

“Indeed, indeed,” she cried pitifully, “you are 
mistaken — I don’t mean that ; I only wanted to say 
good-by to Dick before he went, and to be quite sure 
we were parting friends ; and now I have said good- 
by, and that is all I meant — oh, pray let me go home ! ” 

She stood up ; but partly from mental agitation, 
and partly from the cold of her wet garments — which 
began to strike a chill into her — she shivered and 
trembled to such an extent, that she was forced to 
acknowledge herself utterly incapable of getting back 
to Strathendale ; she was therefore obliged to sub- 
mit herself to Mrs. Forrester’s maternal ministra- 
tions — Mrs. Forrester, who only smiled provokingly 
at her attempts at repudiating the position in which 
she would persist in placing her, kissing her with a 
calm, placid superiority of manner, as though to say, 
“ we won’t argue about it to-night, because you are 
tired, but of course it is as clear as daylight that you 
intend to be Dick’s wife.” 

Very early the next morning, before it was well light, 
there came* a loud rapping at the door of the marital 
chamber wherein Mr. Greythorne and Lady Cressida 
slept the calm slumber of peaceful and untroubled 
middle-age. 

The rapping was so loud and so incessant, that 
finally her ladyship, turning over among her warm 

9 


130 


A Woman's No. 


pillows, awoke, not in the very best of tempers, to the 
consciousness that something must have happened. 

‘‘ Good gracious ! what is the matter ! ” she ex- 
claimed angrily. Come in, whoever you are ; and 
Avhat on earth do you want at this hour in the morn- 
ing ? ” 

A shivering and half-clad housemaid entered in the 
dim morning light, bearing a letter in her hand. 

“ Oh, my lady, I’m sure I beg pardon for disturbing 
you, but the man as brought this would take no 
denial ; he said that it was very important you should 
have it immediate ; and he knocked Thomas up, and I 
was just beginning to dress, so I thought I should 
bring it quicker that any one.” 

‘‘ There, there, hold your tongue, and draw up the 
blinds,” interrupted Lady Cressida, sitting up in bed. 

Where did you say it came from ? ” 

“From Mrs. Forrester, at The Cottage, my lady.” 

“ Most impertinent ! ” muttered her ladyship, frown- 
ing as she broke the seal of the letter. 

The blinds being now drawn up, she was just able 
to decipher the writing. 

She had not the remotest idea that the letter 
she held in her hand could in any way concern herself. 
It had only flashed rapidly through her mind that 
somebody at the Forresters’ must be ill or dead, and 
that Mrs. Forrester had written her for help or as- 
sistance of some kind. 

Mr. Greythorne, who was also awake by this time, 
watched her open the letter with perfect unconcern. 
He thought, of course, that it was tiresome and incon- 
siderate of The Cottage people,” whatever might be 


How Ida Slept at the Cottage. 13 1 

their trouble, to disturb their neighbors at such an 
early hour in the morning; but being more good- 
natured than his wife, he was quite prepared to get up 
instantly, and do his best to render them any assistance 
in his power so soon as he should hear what they 
wanted. 

I suppose somebody is ill, and they want to bor- 
row a horse and man to send for the doctor. Of 
course we can do that for them, if they are in trouble, 
poor things ! But they might have waited half an 
hour, till one was awake, to send over.” 

But he was quite unprepared for the cry of dismay 
and horror that broke from his wife’s lips as she ran 
her eye over the letter. 

“ Good Heavens, my dear, what is the matter ? ” 

But Lady Cressida was incapable of speech. She 
only thrust the note into her husband’s hands, and, 
springing out of bed, rushed to the bell-rope, in order 
to summon her maid and hot water, preparatory to 
getting dressed as quickly as possible. 

The letter from Mrs. Forrester was as follows : 

“ Dear Lady Cressida, — I send over as early as I 
possibly can, in order that you may not be alarmed on 
account of Ida, if you should discover that she is not 
at home. She came over to us yesterday evening, and 
was so thoroughly wet through, that, as we have no 
carriage in which I could send her back, I am sure you 
will say I did rightly in keeping her here for the night. 
She is in bed in Hester’s room ; and although I do not 
think there seems anything serious the matter, still, as 
she is a little feverish, it would perhaps be more satis- 


132 


A Woman's No. 


factory if you were to send for Dr. Scott, just to see 
that she has not taken any harm. I hope, of course, that 
you will come over yourself as soon as possible, as I 
think it will be better to keep her in bed till the middle 
of the day in any * case. I hope you will be indulgent 
to the dear girl, and not scold her too much for her 
folly and imprudence in venturing out on such a wet 
evening. — Yours sincerely, 

Mary Forrester.” 

“What on earth does it mean?” exclaimed Mr. 
Greythorne, sitting up in bed and scratching his gray 
head in a bewildered manner “ Ida at the Forresters’ ! 
How did she get there ? When did she go ? Surely 
she dined with us last night, or am I dreaming ? ” 

“ Yes, she dined with us, of course, and went to her 
own room after dinner. She must have gone out 
then, after we imagined she was in bed. Poor de- 
luded, misguided girl ! What on earth is to become 
of her ! ” 

“ It wasn’t a night fit for a dog to be out ! I trust 
and hope she has not taken any serious harm. Some- 
times a feverish cold is a dangerous thing.” 

“ Oh, what do I care for that ! ” cried Lady Cressida, 
distractedly ; “ her health is nothing ; if she is ill it 
will only be a well-deserved punishment. It is her 
reputation I am thinking about.” 

“ Her reputation ! ” repeated her husband, horror- 
stricken. “ My dear, what can you mean ; surely the 
Forresters — most respectable people — ” 

“ I wish every single one of the Forresters could be 
drowned in the Lennan ! ” cried her ladyship, savagely. 


How Ida Slept at the Cottage. 133 

She had dismissed her maid, and was huddling on 
her garments as quickly as she could. 

‘‘ Don’t you see the scandal there will be ? ” she con- 
tinued distractedly. Of course she went to see that 
wretched young man ; that is what comes of allowing 
one’s children to associate with those below one in 
station ! I always disapproved of that intimacy — you 
know I did.” 

But, my dear Cressida, surely you are making a very 
terrible accusation against our daughter ! Is she not 
engaged to be married, with our consent and approval, 
to a most excellent and charming young fellow? Is it 
likely that she would be so lost to all feeling of duty 
and honor to him, as well as to all sense of maidenly 
modesty, as to go out at night after another man ? I 
cannot believe it of her — her affection for Lord Man- 
nering — ” 

I am sure I know nothing of her affection to him,” 
cried Lady Cressida, who understood more of her 
daughter’s secrets than did her father, “ pray don’t talk 
of it any more ; I feel as if I should go mad ; and for the 
sake of appearances I must get there as quickly as 
possible. You had better get up yourself, Tom, and 
order the brougham for me directly. I shall bring her 
home at once. And as to sending for Dr. Scott, and 
making a talk all over the county, Mrs. Forrester must 
take me for a perfect fool to imagine I should do such 
a thing ! It is bad enough, goodness knows, as it is ! ” 

An hour later. Lady Cressida, stern and angry, stood 
by her daughter’s bedside. 

“ Get up at once, you unhappy and wicked girl,” she 
said to her trembling child. And Ida, weak and ill, 


134 


A Woman's No. 


and terrified, obeyed as best she knew how. Not one 
word, save of formal and coldly polite thanks to Mrs. 
Forrester, did Lady Cressida address to the inmates of 
The Cottage, as she carried away her daughter rolled 
up in shawls and blankets from its doors, inwardly 
vowing to herself that Ida should never again cross 
its offending threshold. 


CHAPTER XVI. 


SPIRITED AWAY. 

Dick had not been at home when Lady Cressida 
carried Ida ofif in so summary a manner. Very early in 
the morning he had started off stealthily by himself, and 
had walked to the nearest telegraph station, four miles 
off, whence he had despatched a telegram to London. 

When he returned Lady Cressida had come and 
gone, carrying away Ida with her in the brougham. 

Hester met him in the hall. 

“Oh, Dick, I am so thankful you have come in ! I 
could not think what had happened to you. You have 
very little time for your breakfast, dear, and two of 
your boxes are still unfastened. Is there anything 
more to go into them ? The fly will be here in a few 
minutes.” 

“ When it comes you can send it away again,” said 
Dick, flinging down his hat on the hall table ; “ I am 
not going.” 

“Xot going! But how can you put it off, Dick? 
Surely the ships starts — ” 

“What does it signify about the ship, Hester? 
Don’t you understand that I am not going to India at 
all ? I have telegraphed to resign my appointment.” 

Not one word did Hester speak, only she turned 
cold and sick with dismay. Too well she knew how 
I3S 


A Woman’s No. 


136 

severely this rash and impulsive action would press 
upon the already straitened circumstances of the little 
family ; too well she remembered all the home-pinch- 
ing and striving to make two ends meet, in order that 
Dick’s expensive education might be carried forward 
— the education that had resulted in this long-hoped- 
for appointment, which he now was madly flinging 
away. 

To Hester the events of the night opened no prospect 
save of trouble and misfortune. Mrs. Forrester 
might rejoice over Ida’s daring and spirit, and consider 
the wealthy heiress as good as married to her favorite 
son ; but Hester knew that these exultant and trium- 
phant hopes were built upon a very shallow and shift- 
ing foundation. She understood Ida better than any 
of them ; and while she appreciated all the sweetness 
of character, and all the charm of manner which ren- 
dered her so winning and so lovable, she knew her to 
be quite wanting in the strength and determination of 
will which would enable her to withstand the home- 
authority and home-persecution to which, once re- 
moved from Dick’s influence, she would be sure to be 
subjected. Ida would never have the needful dogged 
perseverance to stick to Dick, nor would she ever dare 
to face the scandal and the gossip which, to give up a 
marriage with Lord Mannering for the sake of a poor, 
unknown man, would entail upon her. Hester knew 
all this perfectly. And now Dick had thrown over 
his chances in life, and had cast himself again, a pen- 
niless, helpless burden, upon his parents’ hands ! 
She turned from him, cold and heart-sick, with a 
weary sense of failure and misfortune. 


137 


Spirited Away. 

‘‘Don’t look so shocked, Hester,” said Dick, catch- 
ing hold of her hand. “ Is it likely that can I go 
away out of the country now ? You must see that my 
prospects are very different from what they were 
twenty-four hours ago.” 

“ I had rather not discuss it, Dick, we should never 
agree ; only I know that you have flung away a sub- 
stantial good in order to run after a shadow.” 

“ Pooh ! Of course there will be difficulties, but we 
shall overcome them cJl. Ida — ” 

“Ida will never break her engagement for you, 
Dick.” 

“You make me quite angry. You were always 
hard on her ; you never . give her credit for anything 
good ; you shall hear what she says herself.” 

“ I have no chance of doing that, Dick ; she is al 
ready gone.” 

It was Dick’s turn to turn pale and to look dis- 
mayed. 

“ Gone ! ” he repeated blankly. 

“Yes; Lady Cressida came and carried her away a 
quarter of an hour before you came in.” 

“And she went — without a struggle, without an 
effort to see me again ? ” 

“ My poor Dick, why do you not learn to face the 
truth ? Ida is like wax^ in her mother’s hands ; she 
does not know how to defy her or to withstand her 
authority.” 

But Dick turned upon her angrily. 

“ You do not understand her in the very least. Do 
you suppose a woman who did what she has done for 
my sake Avill be frightened by a few angry words from 


A Woman's No. 


138 

an old woman ? I suppose she thought it wiser to go 
away quietly with her mother this morning, but I 
know quite well that she means to stick to me through 
thick and thin ; and as to my prospects, don’t be 
downhearted, Hester. I could not have gone to India 
and have left her now, with everything unsettled as it 
is — that, indeed, would have been to court failure — 
but I have no doubt I shall get something to do in 
London. I shall go to town very shortly and see ; 
I will not remain to be a burden upon my father.” 

I hope you may, but it is not so easy to get em- 
ployment in England,” said Hester, sadly. 

And then Dick, sorry that he had spoken harshly to 
her, drew her to him and kissed her. 

‘‘ l!^ow, like a dear, good girl, would you mind going 
to the governor and telling him ? I know you will 
break it to him better than I shall.” 

So, with masculine selfishness, Dick shifted the un- 
pleasantness of his life upon his sister’s devoted shoul- 
ders, and went off himself, sanguine and buoyant of 
spirit, to receive the sympathy and the flattering adul- 
ation of the fond mother, who was sure to look at all 
his troubles through rose-colored spectacles, and to be- 
lieve that nothing but what was good and happy could 
possibly await her beloved son in the future. 

Meanwhile, Ida was stretched upon her bed at 
Strathendale, weeping miserably, whilst her mother 
sat angry and stern by her side, recapitulating for the 
twentieth time all the heinous enormity of her offence. 

‘‘ There will be a regular scandal in the neighbor- 
hood ; you will be stared at wherever you go. We 
shall have to leave home ! What could induce you to 


Spirited Away. 139 

risk your reputation and your prospects in such a 
manner, you unhappy child ? ” 

‘‘ Oh, mamma, I did so want to see Dick again ! In- 
deed I did not mean to stay more than ten minutes 
there, and then come back again,” sobbed Ida. 

“ Good Heavens ! And if Lord Mannering should 
hear of it, how do you suppose I should account to him 
for your conduct ? ” 

Then Ida sat up on her bed with clasped hands and 
red and swollen eyes. 

Mamma ! dear mamma ! ” she cried despairingly, 
“ may I tell him all — the whole truth, I mean ? Indeed, 
I do not love him enough to marry him ! ” 

‘‘ Ida ! I am ashamed of you ! I really never could 
have imagined that you would become so lost to all 
sense of propriety as to speak in such a manner ! Do 
you suppose that well-bred young ladies are so immod- 
est as to go into rhapsodies and raptures about loving 
young men ? It is really almost indecent to hear you 
talking about love — like— like — a person of the lower 
orders,” added Lady Cressida, somewhat at a loss for 
a sufficiently degrading simile. 

To hear her speak and to see her face of indignant 
disgust, one might have imagined that there was some- 
thing downright immoral in the mention of love. 

Ida only hid her face in her hands and sobbed help- 
lessly. She had made her little effort ; she had told 
her mother that she did not love Lord Mannering, but 
she did not dare to tell her that she did love Dick 
Forrester. She had not the courage to court the 
storm which she well knew such a confession would 
provoke. 


140 


A Woman^s No. 


Once she ventured to ask if she might be allowed 
to see Dick again, if only, she murmured, to explain to 
him that she could never, never be anything to him. 

Lady Cressida appeared to be positively horror- 
stricken. 

“ I don’t suppose the young man would have the 
audacity and the impertinence to dream for one mo- 
ment that you ever could be anything to him ! If you 
have forgotten your position, Ida, I do not imagine he 
will forget his. See him again ? Dear, no ! what on 
earth for ? I shall take good care that you never see 
him again ! ” 

“ You talk of him as if he were a groom, mamma. I 
am sure he is as much a gentleman as papa, or any- 
body I ever met,” remonstrated poor Ida. 

“ I am sorry you should be so blinded by your prej- 
udice for this wretched youth, as not to see the differ- 
ence between a man like your own father and these 
people,” said Lady Cressida, contemptuously. “ I 
shall leave you now to endeavor to. bring yourself to a 
better frame of mind.” 

“ Oh, mamma ! may I not see papa ? ” 

“ Certainly not ! He would only be distressed and 
grieved by your rebellious and improper words.” 

Lady Cressida was afraid that her husband might 
be more soft-hearted than herself, and give Ida hopes 
that her engagement with Lord Mannering could be 
broken off — a thing she was well determined should 
never take place. 

Poor Ida was left alone in her room to her tears and 
her hopelessness. She knew now, poor child, that she 
loved Dick Forrester, but she did not think it possible 


spirited Away. 14 1 

that she could break through the many chains, or over- 
step the deep and Avide chasm that divided her life 
from his. It seemed to her that there was no other 
fate for her but to marry the man her mother had 
chosen for her, to make him the best wife that she 
could, and endeavor as best she could to put Dick For- 
rester’s handsome face out of her memory forever. 

She had been capable of a desperate act of physical 
courage in order to see the man she loved once more ; 
but she was quite incapable of the moral courage 
necessary to make a strong and determined resistance 
to the tyranny of a will more powerful than her own. 
Had Dick been with her, she might have found the 
support of his presence sufficient to have enabled her 
to make at least an effort on his behalf ; but Dick was 
not there, and her mother was constantly and unceas- 
ingly dinning into her weary ears the self-same ex- 
pressions of indignant horror at her past conduct, of 
strenuous injunctions concerning her duty for the 
future. Ida had no internal source of strength where- 
with to resist Lady Cressida’s attacks. She submitted 
miserably and hopelessly, it is true, but meekly enough 
also, to everything that her mother said to her or told 
her to do. 

Two days passed away — two days of confusion and 
bustle. There was a packing-up and putting-away of 
things all over the house, for it was suddenly an- 
nounced to the astonished household that at this ex- 
traordinary early season of the autumn — September 
was not yet over — the family was going southward to 
take up its abode in the London mansion in Eaton 
Square. 


142 


A Woman's No. 


On the third day came Dick Forrester, hold as brass 
and brave as a lion, ringing loudly and unhesitatingly 
at the front door, and requesting to know if Miss 
Greythorne were at home, and whether she would see 
him? 

“Miss Greythorne is away, sir,” replied the old 
butler, who was always left in charge at Strathendale. 
“ The whole family have gone to London ; they left the 
house about an hour ago. I was just going to put all 
the shutters up, sir, when you came.” 

And poor Dick turned away sick with disappoint- 
ment. He was stranded, indeed ; he had thrown over 
his prospects in life, and his love had been spirited 
away. 


CHAPTER XVII. 


Gertrude’s photograph album. 

Not long after the events which were recorded in 
the last chapter had taken place in the far ISTorth ujdoii 
the banks of the Lennan, Gertrude Tracy received a 
piece of intelligence which afforded her much gratifi- 
cation. For some time past Gertrude had been pos- 
sessed by a mania to have a companion — a paid com- 
panion, indeed, but one who should be at the same 
time a companion and an agreeable friend. All her 
life long Gertrude had been given to taking sudden 
and unaccountable fancies, which her mother had never 
failed to humor and gratify, as far as she had been 
able to do so. Mrs. Tracy, indeed, possessed ample 
means to fulfil this last strange whim of her daughter’s, 
and was the more anxious to do so, because Gertrude’s 
temper was now so uncertain and so trying, that she 
was secretly rejoiced to think of shifting the onerous 
duty of pleasing and amusing her on to somebody else’s 
shoulders. 

Accordingly she wrote to several of her friends 
mentioning her requirements, and asked them if they 
could recommend any young lady in poor circum- V 
stances who would make a suitable companion for her 
daughter. 

Amongst others she had written, as we have seen, 
some time previously, to Lady Cressida Greythorne. 

143 


144 


A Woman's No. 


The answer, however, had not been satisfactory. Lady 
Cressida knew, indeed, of such a young lady — a Miss 
Forrester — whose family was very poor, and who, she 
thought, would in every way have pleased Mrs. Tracy ; 
but on mentioning the subject to her, Miss Forrester 
had not been willing to leave home. ‘‘ A great pity,” 
added Lady Cressida, ‘‘ as it would have been an ad- 
vantage to her to render herself independent of her 
parents.” 

Here of course the negotiation dropped, but Ger- 
trude Tracy could not dismiss the subject from her 
mind. She seemed to be possessed of a mania in favor 
of Miss Forrester, to the exclusion of everybody else. 
In vain Mrs. Tracy wrote to, and received answers 
from, several most hopeful and promising young ladies, 
all willing and eager to become Gertrude’s companion. 
Gertrude herself would have none of them ; she only 
flung down their prettily- worded and neatly- written 
letters in disgust, and harked back incessantly to 
Hester Forrester. 

‘‘I don’t fancy her,” she would say impatiently; 
« the only one I should like is Lady Cressida’s Miss 
Forrester — ” 

“ But, my dear,” remonstrated her mother, mildly, 
‘‘if we can’t get Miss Forrester — ” 

“ But we must get her, mamma ! She is to be got, 
I am certain. Write and offer her a higher salary.” 

“I don’t think I should quite like to try and bribe 
her in that way ; she might be offended.” 

“ Fiddlesticks ! "No one is ever offended at getting 
more money than they expect ! However, there it 
is — will have Miss Forrester or nobody ! ” 


Gertrude's Photograph Album. 145 

‘‘ My dear Gertrude, how would you like me to ask 
one of Aunt Jane’s girls to pay us a long visit ? ” 

“ Gracious ! I should die of it ! they are the stupid- 
est, most inane and most vapid young women in 
Christendom ! ” 

How can you tell that this Miss Forrester would 
be any better ? ” 

“ I can’t tell ; I can only feel, I have an instinct 
that I should like her. But, of course, mamma,” sulkily 
turning herself round on her sofa, of course you are 
determined to thwart and to cross me in every pos- 
sible way ! ” 

Poor Mrs. Tracy was too wise to offer a denial ; she 
only sighed resignedly and heljd her tongue. 

The search after companions was suffered to drop, 
and nothing more was said about it for several weeks. 

One morning, however, to her surprise, Mrs. Tracy 
received a letter from Lady Cressida, reopening the 
subject of Miss Forrester. 

She carried it in triumph into Gertrude’s room. 
Lady Cressida wrote from London, where she told 
Mrs. Tracy she had gone to get ready her daughter’s 
trousseau, as the marriage would probably be fixed for 
some time in December. 

She went on to state that she had that morning 
heard from Miss Hester Forrester, who wrote to tell 
her, that owing to several alterations in family arrange- 
ments, her brother having very foolishly thrown over 
a good foreign appointment, she was now more in- 
clined to take a position as a companion than she had 
been, and if Lady Cressida’s friend had not yet found 
any one to suit her daughter, she would be very much 
10 


146 A Woman's No. 

obliged if she would kindly mention her name again 
to her. 

Gertrude was enchanted, and insisted upon writing 
oif that very day to Miss Forrester. The negotiations 
went on apace ; everything was satisfactorily arranged, 
and within a fortnight Hester was installed as an in- 
mate of Orchard Grange. 

Meanwhile Lord Mannering lingered at Wilmerton. 
The old man was still confined to the house, his mother 
also had returned after her round of visits; and 
although Florian had in duty bound gone once or 
twice up to London for the day when the Greythornes 
were settled in town, he still made his family ties an 
excuse for remaining at Wilmerton, and did not seem 
disposed for the present to take up his abode any 
nearer to Eaton Square. 

Truth to say, he made but a very indifferent lover 
as Lady Cressida herself was perforce obliged to 
acknowledge ; and she was a good deal annoyed by 
the cool and leisurely manner in which he conducted 
his love-making. She took good care, however, not to 
impart her dissatisfaction to any one else. Mr. Grey- 
thorne, at his club most of the day, never noticed that 
his future son-in-law was not all that he should be ; 
and as to Ida, she was too much absorbed in herself, 
and too utterly low-spirited and heartless, to feel his 
unfrequent visits as anything but a boon and' a relief. 
Lady Cressida consoled herself by refiecting that many 
men who are indifferent and undemonstrative lovers 
make excellent and attentive husbands ; and she told 
herself that, once married, everything would come all 
right. 


Gertrude's Photograph Album. 147 

‘‘ It would be a thousand pities to let such a match 
be broken off now,” she said to herself, with the old 
man so ailing and the Wilmerton title on the point of 
falling in ; besides, the trousseau is half bought, and 
were anything to disturb the marriage now, it might 
set Ida thinking about that wretched young Forrester 
again. As it is, she seems to be quite resigned to the 
necessity of giving him up.” 

Lady Cressida, however, for all her indignation 
against ‘‘ that wretched young Forrester,” as she called 
poor Dick, had no objection to doing Hester a good 
turn when the opportunity offered itself; and as it 
seemed to her that for Dick’s sister to become Miss 
Tracy’s companion could neither make nor mar Ida’s 
matrimonial prospects, she wrote as we have seen, and 
recommended her in kind and hearty terms to Mrs. 
Tracy. 

But Lady Cressida knew nothing of the wheels 
within wheels that were revolving about her daughter’s 
fate ; nor could she possibly foresee how important an 
influence this, to her, insignificant event was destined to 
have over the lives of most of the actors in this story. 

Hester Forrester had been at the Grange about a 
fortnight. She heard, of course, before she had been 
two days in the house, that the wooded glades of the 
lovely park, into which most of the windows of the 
house looked, belonged to Lord Wilmerton ; but either 
she did not know that the old earl, whom she heard 
the Tracys speak of as a gouty and troublesome old 
gentleman, was the grandfather of Ida’s betrothed, or 
else, not knowing that he himself was at the house, it 
did not occur to her to connect him with Lord Man- 


A Woman's No. 


148 

nering. One afternoon she was sitting by Gertrude’s 
couch, and for want of something to do she took up 
her photograph book and began turning its pages idly 
over. She and Gertrude got on very well together. 
Miss Tracy was in a good temper, having got what she 
wanted ; and when in a good temper she knew how to 
make herself pleasant. Moreover, she had been ex- 
tracting all the information she could out of Hester, 
concerning Ida Greythorne ; and Hester, who had not, 
of course, the slightest idea that her questions were 
prompted by anything but idle curiosity, saw no harm 
in answering them fully and freely. Hester, too, 
believed in Gertrude’s invalidism more thoroughly 
than did other people who had known her for years, 
and who were inclined to give to half her complaints 
the harsher names of selfishness and indolence ; and 
Gertrude liked to be believed in. The two already 
called each other by their Christian names, and were 
in a fair way to becoming friends. 

Gertrude lay on her sofa fingering some useless scrap 
of fancy work, and Hester on a low chair by her side 
turned over the leaves of the photograph book. Sud- 
denly Gertrude exclaimed, ‘‘ Who on earth are you 
looking at so earnestly, Hester ? One would think 
you had discovered the portrait of some old and valued 
friend.” 

Hester was indeed bending absorbedly over the 
book upon her knees, contemplating fixedly one of its 
pages. When Gertrude spoke to her she started 
guiltily and blushed crimson. Then she felt angry 
with herself for being so foolish as to blush, and deter- 
mined to answer simply and naturally. 


Gertrude's Photograph Album. 149 

‘‘ I have certainly come across the portrait, not of 
an old friend, but of an acquaintance whom I liked 
very much — the little I saw of him — Mr. Florian.” 

“ Mr. who ? ” said Gertrude, looking at her sharply. 

‘‘ Mr. Florian — surely this can be meant for nobody 
else.” 

She pushed the book towards her, and Gertrude, to 
gain a moment of time for reflection and consideration, 
pretended to examine the portrait. In one instant her 
shrewd and busy brain perceived that Hester knew 
the man and yet was ignorant as to who he was. Ida’s 
betrothed was evidently known to her — else how 
should she recognize his picture and call him by his 
Christian name ? — but Hester apparently did not know 
that he was Lord Mannering. What advantage might 
not Gertrude extract from this extraordinary circum- 
stance ? 

Her flrst care was to extract the amount of infor- 
mation possessed by her companion without betraying 
the real state of the case. 

‘‘ Yes, yes, to be sure,” she said. I did not re- 
member at flrst who you meant — a good likeness, is it 
not ? Did he tell you his name was Mr. Florian ? ” 

“ Ought I then to call him Captain Florian ? ” in- 
quired Hester, laughing a little and blushing still a 
good deal. You see how slight my acquaintance with 
him is ! I did not even know he was in the army ! ” 

“ I never heard that he was. No, I don’t think he 
is captain. You met him at Strathendale Castle,! 
suppose ? ” 

Hester was scrupulously truthful. She had rather 
not have gone on talking about him ; but the arts of 


ISO 


A Woman's No. 


prevarication and evasion were unknown to her. She 
answered openly, although with some confusion of 
manner, — 

“No. I believe he was staying there, but I never 
went to the Castle whilst he was there. No ; the fact 
is, I was never properly introduced to him. He rendered 
me a slight service, a trifling attention, one day out 
of doors. I talked to him for a few minutes — that was 
all. You see our acquaintance is of the very slightest. 
I could hardly claim him as a friend.” 

“ And he told you his name ? ” said Gertrude, slowly 
and reflectively. 

“ Yes ; in fact, I asked him what it was. It seems 
so stupid to talk to a person and not know his name.” 

Gertrude was quite silent for some minutes. The 
thought going on in her mind was this, — 

“ Now, what possible object could he have had in 
giving her a wrong name — in telling her his Christian 
name, and in concealing his rank and identity from 
her ? He must have had some object in it ! I must 
certainly find it out ! ” 

Hester’s next words betrayed more than half of her 
secret. 

“ Do you know him well ? ” she asked timidly. 
“ Does he ever come here ? I — I should like to see him 
again.” 

“ I used to know him pretty well,” said Gertrude, 
coldly. “ But no, I don’t think you are likely to meet 
him here.” 

And she said to herself, — 

“ I have found you out, my lord ! You have been 
making love to this woman ; and if I mistake not, I 


Gertrude's Photograph Album. 15 1 

shall be able to turn this circumstance considerably to 
my own advantage.” 

Her next question was to make assurance sure. 

‘‘ Did you ever see Lord Mannering, Hester — the 
man Miss Greythorne is engaged to ? ” 

“ Ho,” answered Hester, in a totally altered tone of 
voice. “ I should have liked to see him ; but some- 
how I never did. He was not long at Strathendale, 
and he went away very soon. Poor Ida ! ” — with a 
a gentle sigh, as she recollected certain events that had 
taken place at The Cottage — “ I do hope she will be 
happy ! ” 

And hearing that sigh. Miss Gertrude Tracy was 
quite certain that ghe was right in her supposition. 


CHAPTER XVIIL 


A NOVEMBER WALK. 

One day not long afterwards Gertrude sent Hester 
into the neighboring country town to match some 
wool for her everlasting fancy work. Gertrude had 
no hesitation in sending Miss Forrester upon her er- 
rands in every direction, and Hester was quite ready 
and willing to go. Truth to say, after the first novelty 
of the change of scene and companionship had begun 
somewhat to wear off, Hester was not sorry for an oc- 
casional excuse for escaping into the fresh air away 
from Gertrude’s perpetual chatter. Moreover, she 
dearly loved a walk — and Gertrude never walked. 

Once a day she would perhaps stroll slowly round 
the garden, and two or three times a week she went 
out for an hour in a low basket-carriage drawn by a 
fat and lazy pony, which it was Hester’s duty to drive 
along among the lanes at almost a foot’s pace — that 
was the only change of air which Miss Tracy indulged 
in ; and to Hester, accustomed as she was to perpetual 
air and exercise, the life was somewhat of a trial. 
She was always glad, therefore, when Gertrude could 
give her any excuse for a walk into the small town 
of Eastham, which was situated about two miles 
off. 

The walk, too, was a pleasant one, and led across 
152 


A November Walk. 


153 

fields and through a pretty piece of copse land which, 
in dry weather, was tempting to linger in. 

It was a fine, still November morning — not exactly 
sunny, but with gleams of brightness from the pale, 
gray sky, and with a warmth in the air that partook 
more of the genial breath of the departed summer 
than of the chills of the fast- coming winter. Hester 
thoroughly enjoyed her walk. When she got into 
Eastham, she found, to her annoyance, that it was 
market-day. The usually quiet little town was 
crowded and dirty. Fat farmers and still fatter sheep 
and oxen crowded the narrow High Street ; vans and 
trucks and covered carts of every description filled up 
the roadway, whilst the pavement was thronged with 
a noisy and somewhat rough collection of men, who 
either stood about talking loudly and haggling angrily 
over their bargains, or shouldered their way rudely and 
ungraciously amongst their fellow-passengers. 

Hester found some difficulty in threading her way 
through the crowd and in keeping herself clear of 
their pipes and their rough gestures. It was certainly 
not a pleasant day for a lady to be walking alone in 
Eastham. To add to her vexation, she found a good 
deal of difficulty in fulfilling Gertrude’s commission. 
The color of the wool was troublesome to match ; she 
had to go into three or four different shops before she 
could get what she wanted. 

She was so much absorbed in her errand, and so anx- 
ious to avoid attention by hurrying from one shop to 
the other, that she did not see a tall gentleman, in a 
gray riding-suit, whom she passed quite close, and who 
stood at one corner of the principal street, talking to a 


154 A Woman's No. 

respectable-looking farmer, and tapping his boot with 
his riding- whip. 

If she had looked up she would have seen him turn 
eagerly round as she went by. Then, apparently re- 
straining himself, he contented himself with following 
her with his eyes, and by moving slowly onwards in 
the direction she had taken. The rough crowd of men 
touched their hats, and made way for him respectfully 
as he went by. 

Still continuing his conversation with the farmer 
whom he had been talking to, and who kept by his side. 
Lord Mannering, nevertheless, took care not to lose 
sight of the tall, graceful figure of the lady who 
went in and out of the little shops in search of her 
wool. 

At length he saw her issue forth out of one of them 
with a small parcel in her hand. She then turned 
hastily out of the High Street, as though glad to be rid 
of it, and took the road that led out of town back to- 
wards Wilmerton. 

Mannering, then, shaking off the loquacious farmer 
as hurriedly and unceremoniously as he could, turned 
into the inn-yard close by, where the ostler was hold- 
ing his horse, sprang into the saddle, and turned 
quickly away from the crowd and bustle into the road 
along which the tall figure of Hester Forrester had 
already disappeared round a corner. 

Once clear of the town and its confusion she relaxed 
her speed and walked slowly and lingeringly. A little 
way along the road the field path turned off to the 
right, and it was easy for the horseman who followed 
her to perceive the object of his search walking across 


A November Walk. 155 

two flat and open meadows towards the woods through 
which the path ran. 

Once within the coppice, Hester began to feel rather 
tired. In spite of the lateness of the season, the air 
was still and warm. A fallen tree lay temptingly by 
the wayside. She sat down upon it to rest, with her 
face to the woods, and her back to the town from which 
she had come. 

Not five minutes later there came a clatter of 
horses’ hoofs behind her, and turning hastily round, 
she saw Lord Mannering’s pretty chestnut mare come 
neatly over the low stile into the wood. In another 
minute he had alighted and came forward, eagerly and 
joyfully, with outstretched hands, to greet her. 

It was impossible to mistake the delight with which 
his whole face beamed ; it was easy to see by the 
happy gleam of his dancing eyes that this meeting was 
no indifferent matter to him. 

As to Hester, she faltered and turned rosy red as she 
laid her hand within his. 

“ Mr. Florian ! — who would have thought of seeing 
you? — where do you come from ? You have literally 
dropped from the clouds upon me.” 

‘‘I saw you in Eastham. You did not see me there, 
and I followed you. Are you angry ? ” 

“ Oh, no I ” looking down upon the grass and 
withered leaves beneath her feet. 

“ Let me sit down by your side and talk to you.” 

“ Oh, I must get home now.” 

‘‘ Then I will walk with you.” 

He passed his arm through the chestnut’s bridle, and 
walked slowly on by her side along the narrow wood- 


A Woman's No. 


156 

land path. There came a gleam of winter sunshine 
through the pearl-gray skies that shone upon them as 
they walked. 

And they were happy — supremely happy ; no cares 
for the future, no remorse for the past, no misgivings 
for the present troubled the serene oblivion of the first 
dawning breath of a love that neither of them as yet 
had acknowledged even in the depths of their own 
hearts. They only knew that they were together, 
and that they were content. Their talk was in such 
broken murmurs as lovers all the world over con- 
verse in. 

“ Were you very much startled to see me ? ” 

Rather — only — ” 

‘‘ Only what ? — were you thinking of me ? ” bending 
towards her tenderly. 

“ I did not mean to say that,” blushing deeply. 

“ But you were thinking of me ? ” 

“ No — only of your portrait which I saw a few days 
ago.” 

“ Really ? — where was that ? ” 

“ In Miss Tracy’s photograph album.” 

A change came over his face — a look of apprehension 
and even of alarm. 

‘‘Do you know Miss Tracy, then?” he asked 
hastily. 

“ I am living with her.” 

“ Living with her ! with Gertrude Tracy ! Good 
Heavens ! what did she tell you about me ? Every- 
thing that is bad, I suppose.” 

“ No, indeed ; she said nothing against you. She 
hardly spoke of you, indeed.” 


A November Walk. 157 

“ Tell me what she said ! ” he asked, with some anx- 
iety. 

Hester looked up with a little surprise and 
replied, — 

Gertrude said really next to nothing. I found your 
photograph in her book. I asked her if it was not 
meant for Mr. Florian ? ” 

“ And she said yes ? ” 

Of course she said yes, and she asked how I knew 
you. I only told her that I had met you in the North ; 
and I asked her if she knew you well, and whether you 
were likely to come to the Grange to see her. She 
merely said she used to know you pretty well, but that 
you were not likely to come and call now. Perhaps 
she did not know that you were in the neighborhood.” 
“ And that was all she said ? ” 

“ Yes, that was all, as far as I can remember.” 

Her companion seemed to breathe more freely. 

“ Tell me,” he asked in a lighter voice, how you, of 
all people, come to be living with the Tracys ? ” 

And then Hester told him that she had come there 
as Gertrude’s paid companion because her family was 
poor and it was necessary for her to do something for 
her own support. She did not tell him about Dick and 
his love troubles, which had been the indirect cause of 
her being forced into this step, because she did not 
consider herself bound to tell her brother’s secrets ; but 
she told him about herself, and how Lady Cressida had 
recommended her to Mrs. Tracy, and how she had 
thought she would try it. 

I can but go home, you know, if I don’t like it,” she 
said in conclusion. 


A Woman's No. 


158 

“ And do you like it ? ” 

I don’t dislike it ; they are very kind to me.” 

‘‘ I would sooner you had been anywhere else than 
there,” he said with some emphasis. 

‘‘ Do you not like them ? ” 

“ They are not my friends. I cannot come to see 
you at their house.” 

She looked up at him. There was both disappoint- 
ment and regret in her face. 

“ You are not, then, glad that I am here ? ” she said 
with a quiver in her voice. 

He caught hold of her hand. 

“ Glad ! Why do you ask such questions ? Is it to 
tempt me ? You hnow that I am more than glad.” 

She endeavored to take away her hand, but somehow 
the attempt was not a very vigorous one, and he drew 
it almost unresistingly through his arm. 

“ Look here,” he said quickly and eagerly, I will 
not come to see you there. I can’t explain why ; it is 
a long story. Those women are not my friends. I don’t 
care to go there ; but that is no reason why I should 
not see you often. Are not all the fields and woods and 
lanes open to us ? Why should we meet in public, be- 
fore others, when we can see each other alone any day 
of our lives ? ” 

‘‘ Indeed, Mr. Florian,” remonstrated Hester, with 
a sudden misgiving as to the strange manner in which 
he desired their friendship to be carried on, “ I had far 
rather not. It seems almost as if one was doing wrong 
to meet in that way. Have you not relations of your 
own ? Is your home near here ? Do you live here ? 
And, if so, what would your people think of me?” 


A November Walk. 


159 


Never mind my people. You are not likely to come 
across them,” he answered impatiently. ‘‘Yes, I live 
somewhere near here — at least, I am here at present, 
and shall remain here now. What a strange girl you 
are ! How can it be more wrong to talk to me out of 
doors than in a house ? Have we not always met out 
of doors, under the free heavens ? And have not our 
meetings been happy ones ? They have, have they not, 
Hester?” 

He murmured her name hesitatingly and softly with 
a lingering tenderness, as though he loved to dwell 
upon it. 

And Hester, with drooping head and downcast eyes, 
answered nothing ; only she listened to the voice of the 
charmer, and all her heart went tremblingly out to 
meet him. 

“You will do as I ask you?” he continued per- 
suasively, pressing the hand that he detained still upon 
his arm. “ I know you will. Every evening, wet or 
fine, I will wait in the orchard behind the Grange gar- 
den under the big apple tree that has a bench round it. 
Ah ! you see I know every tree that grows near you ; 
there I shall be every evening of my life. You will 
not let me wait there alone for you, will you? You 
will slip out to me if it is only for five minutes — no 
one will see you. You could not know that I was so 
near you and not come, could you ? Promise me that 
you will come — to-morrow I shall be there. Promise 
to meet me.’^ 

“I don’t know — I cannot say,” stammered Hester, 
confusedly. She was bewildered and fluttered. She 
was profoundly ignorant of the world ; and yet a sure 


i6o 


A Woman's No. 


instinct told her that if he desired to woo he should do 
so openly and boldly, and in the face of the whole 
world, and not by stealth and in the darkness. 

But there was no time for further argument ; al- 
ready the Grange chimneys had come into sight over 
the trees. She murmured something that was neither 
assent nor denial ; he pressed her hand hurriedly, 
sprang on to his horse, and was soon lost to sight 
among the glades of the wood. 


/ 


CHAPTER XIX. 

DICK IN LONDON. 

Now, at this time, if there was a thoroughly 
wretched man in the world that man was Dick For- 
rester. Dick had not been able to remain at The 
Cottage on the banks of the Lennan after Strathendale 
was deserted by its inmates. Moreover, when Hester 
went off to try her fortunes in the South, Dick did not 
find his father’s house a very cheerful one. 

Colonel Forrester had not the same sympathy with 
his son’s love-troubles which his wife had, nor had he 
the same sanguine dreams for his future in which the 
fond mother was wont to indulge. It did not seem to 
the old gentleman, any more than it did to Hester, 
that Dick was any nearer to becoming the husband of 
the rich Miss Greythorne because he had rashly and 
foolishly thrown up his Indian appointment, or because 
the young lady herself, in a fit of romantic reckless- 
ness, had come wading across the Lennan on a stormy 
night in order to fling herself — according to his old- 
fashioned notions — in a somewhat indecorous manner 
into his arms. To Colonel Forrester’s more practical 
mind the whole business assumed a thoroughly prosaic 
and a decidedly unpleasant aspect. 

His son, at the very threshold of an honorable and 
lucrative career, had flung aside his whole prospects in 

II i6i 


i 62 


A Woman^s No. 


order to remain in the same country with a young 
lady who was engaged to somebody else, and whose 
parents were not likely to permit her to break through 
her engagement ; and by so doing he had wasted an 
expensive education, and had thrown himself back — 
a great, idle, useless fellow — upon his parents’ hands. 

Colonel Forrester, indeed, considered that Dick had 
behaved very badly ; and although he was a man of 
few words, he nevertheless made it quite clear to his 
son that he was thoroughly displeased with him ; more 
especially was his disapproval expressed when Hester, 
anxious only to relieve the over-taxed family ex- 
chequer, insisted upon going away to earn her own 
livelihood. 

“ Had it not been for your selfish and inconsiderate 
conduct, Dick,” said Colonel Forrester, as he watched 
the fiy which carried away his favorite daughter from 
The Cottage, “your sister would not have been re- 
duced to the sad necessity of leaving her home to go 
and toil amongst strangers.” 

There was so much truth in this remark, and the 
truth was of so disagreeable a nature, that Dick had 
been unable to make any adequate response. 

“ I will not stay here to be a burden upon you, sir,” 
was all that he could say. “ I am going up to London 
next week to get something to do.” 

“ It is not so easy as you seem to imagine to get 
anything to do in London. You may be hanging 
about for months seeking for employment.” 

“I shall ask Uncle Robert to help me.” 

Uncle Robert was Mrs. Forrester’s brother. 

“ I don’t think you will find that he will do much 


Dick in London. 


163 

for you ; and until you get something to do, how are 
you to live ? I can’t afford to give you an allowance to 
support you in idleness.” 

“ Oh, I daresay Margaret will put me up.” 

Mention has been made in these pages of the eldest 
child of the Forrester family, who years ago had 
married a clergyman, now residing in London, her hus- 
band having been lately fortunate enough to be pre- 
sented to a West-end living. 

It was to her house that Dick went on his arrival 
in town, and Mrs. Wright, who was a good-hearted 
and kindly-natured woman, was glad enough to see 
something of the young brother who was almost a 
stranger to her. Mrs. Wright, in fact, was almost a 
stranger by this time to her own people. They were 
so far away, and their lives were so totally different from 
hers, that it seemed impossible for her to care much 
about them. She was much absorbed in her various 
occupations — in her husband and his parish, and, 
above all, in her babies. She wrote, indeed, regularly 
every week to her mother ; her letters were models of 
propriety, and were almost facsimiles one of the other. 
They always contained the minutest information con- 
cerning Jennie’s chilblains and Mary’s delicate throat 
— described the process of bottle-feeding pursued with 
the baby then on hand, and reported the progress of 
the dowager infant upon its fat, toddling legs. 

Margaret herself was fat and motherly in appear- 
ance, and good-tempered in disposition. She was gen- 
uinely distressed when she heard that Hester had gone 
out as a companion. She even wrote and remonstrated 
with her mother, and suggested that it was rather de- 


A Woman's No. 


164 

rogatory to the dignity of the family ; but having of- 
fered her protest, which of course nobody took any 
notice of, she forgot all about it, and troubled hersel 
no further about her. When, soon after, Dick pro- 
posed to come and quarter himself in her not very 
spacious house in Kensington, Margaret was delighted 
to receive him, bundled two of her little girls out of 
their bedroom into their father’s dressing-room in 
order to make room for him, and welcomed him with 
quite a gush of sisterly affection. 

Dick, therefore, took up his abode in London, and, 
needless to say, his very first action was to walk to 
Eaton Square and look up at Ida’s windows. He did 
not catch sight of her on this occasion — nor, indeed, 
for many days afterward. 

He went to see “ Uncle Robert,” who was a partner in 
a City firm ; but that gentleman did not seem dis- 
posed to befriend him in the matter of finding employ- 
ment for him, although he professed himself delight- 
ed to see his “ poor dear sister’s boy.” 

“ I have so many sons of my own, you see,” he said 
doubtfully ; “ but — come and eat your dinner with us 
on Sunday, my boy. My wife will be delighted to see 
you ; and now you must excuse me if I shake hands 
with you, as I am very busy to-day. ” 

The dinner on Sunday was productive of no good 
results. Uncle Robert was civil and even cordial to 
him, but he was not inclined to give him anything more 
substantial than an invitation to the family repast on 
any or every Sabbath he might choose to come. 

Dick found the “something to do” which he had 
talked of so confidently and cheerfully upon the banks 


Dick in London. 165 

of the Lennan to be no such easy a matter as he had 
supposed. 

Meanwhile, he wandered about the streets aimlessly 
and wretchedly enough, and found London in Nov 
ember anything but an exhilarating abode. 

One day, whilst strolling homeward through the Park, 
he suddenly, not far from Hyde Park Corner, came face 
to face with two ladies, at sight of whom his heart beat 
wildly and tumultuously — they were Lad}?’ Cressida 
and Ida. 

He stopped short, holding out his hand eagerly to 
them, and Ida half turned and would have stopped, but 
to his amazement Lady Cressida drew her onwards. 

“ Come on, my dear, what are you stopping for ? — the 
brougham must be waiting for us at the gate” she said 
coldly ; and, to his astonishment and indignation, she 
took Ida’s arm, and they both passed him without 
speaking to him, or without even seeming to be aware 
of his presence. Only Ida raised her eyes for one swift 
instant to his. They were full of tears, and there was 
a dumb, pitiful look of enteaty in them, as though to 
pray him for forgiveness for that which she had no 
power to prevent. 

Dick was left standing there, with his heart full of 
unspeakable rage and indignation. That they should 
cut him — for that was what it actually amounted to — 
was an extent of injury and insult which he had not 
expected even at Lady Cressida’s hands. Neither could 
he forgive Ida — her cowardice and her abject submis- 
sion to her mother seemed to him to be something 
almost contemptible. 

He strode home^ mad with fury and misery, and sat 


i66 


A Woman's No. 


up half the night writing to Ida a letter full of 
reproaches, of despair, and of entreaty — a letter cal- 
culated to melt the heart and to strike remorse to 
the conscience of the least sensitive of woman. 

Ida and Lady Cressida got into the brougham ; but 
the drive home had been far from a peaceful one. No 
sooner was she within the shelter of the carriage than 
Ida had burst into a flood of angry tears. 

“ Oh, mamma, how could you make me behave so 
cruelly, so infamously badly to Dick ! What must he 
think of me ! ” 

‘‘ My dear Ida,” answered her mother, coldly, ‘‘ I 
am really surprised at you. I thought we had done 
with this disagreeable subject. You ought to see your- 
self that one cannot know all one’s small country 
neighbors up in town.” 

“ Oh, mamma ! I call it quite horrid and very un- 
lady-like to pass an old friend like Dick without even 
shaking hands with him.” 

“ And what good would it have done you, foolish 
child ? ” cried her ladyship, angrily. “ I suppose I am 
the best judge of what is right and proper, and I will 
not allow that unfortunate young man to come hang- 
ing about you in town to the detriment, perhaps, of 
all your prospects. You must see very well that he is 
no fit companion for you ; he is quite different from 
any other young man of our acquaintance. Look at 
his coats ! ” 

Now Dick’s coats were not, as I have before men- 
tioned, his strong point ; they were ill made, and did 
not fit him, but he himself was supremely indifferent 
to the fact, 


Dick in London. 


167 

Even Ida felt that she had nothing to say in favor 
of his coat. She could not but acknowledge to herself 
that in the matter of his clothes Dick was certainly at 
a disadvantage. She attempted no defence of his gar- 
ments and only wept on in silence in her corner of the 
carriage. 

A long course of suppression and subjection to the 
maternal authority had by this time broken Ida’s spirit 
and weakened her nerves. She had no strength, 
either bodily or mental, to stand up against her 
mother’s strong will ; but still, when she actually saw 
Dick again, she did feel a wild desire to rebel against 
her fate. For a few hours she told herself that she 
could not and would not marry Lord Mannering ; 
then, again, her heart sank back into a dumb despair. 

She knew that Dick was penniless, and she did not 
think that her parents would be likely to give her an 
allowance if she persisted in defying their Avishes. 
What would become of her ? She had been brought 
up in such luxury, that to be poor and in want of 
things she had always been accustomed to seemed to 
her a fate almost worse than to be miserable as Lord 
Mannering’s wife. 

All that evening she sat doing nothing, pretending 
to read, but weeping silently over her book. Just as 
she was going to bed a letter was placed in her hands. 
It was from Dick. She hurried away with it to her 
own room in order to read it alone ; and all night long 
the poor girl sat up weeping and wailing over it. 

Then the next morning something very dreadful 
happened. 

Ida and Lady Cressida were sitting alone in the 


i68 


A Woman^s No. 


drawing-room about eleven o’clock. Mr. Greythorne 
had gone to his club. 

The two ladies were engaged in looking over a large 
box full of expensive lace handkerchiefs that had been 
sent for them to choose from. They were, of course, 
destined to form part of Ida’s trousseau. 

Ida had dried her tears, and had once more resigned 
herself to her fate. It was beyond her power to help 
being interested and amused by such a delightful oc- 
cupation. She was particularly fond of good lace, and 
was a competent judge of its merits. The handker- 
chiefs were very handsome, richly trimmed with every 
variety of Brussels and Mechlin and Valenciennes ; they 
were spread about all over the table and the sofa, and 
the two ladies were deeply absorbed in their work of 
selection. 

Lady Cressida, seeing that Ida had apparently for- 
gotten yesterday’s misadventure, was in the best and 
sweetest of tempers with her daughter. So busy were 
they over their task that neither of them heard the 
door-bell ring. 

Suddenly, in the middle of an animated discussion 
over Brussels versus Valenciennes, the door opened 
and the footman announced “ Mr. Forrester.” 


CHAPTER XX. 


A STORMY SCENE. 

Lady Cressida made one bound from her chair into 
the middle of the room, as though she would, if there 
had been yet time, have arrested the entrance of the 
unwelcome visitor. But Dick had already come in. 

Ida sat still, white with consternation and terror ; 
she felt ready to sink into the earth. 

“ I scarcely expect visitors at so early an hour, Mr. 
Forrester,” said Lady Cressida, stiffly. She could 
hardly avoid holding out her hand, but she did so in 
the coldest and most formal manner possible. 

I am sorry if I am disturbing you,” said Dick, po- 
litely, ‘‘ but I was so extremely anxious to find you 
and Ida at home that it must be my excuse for calling 
before lunch.” 

‘‘ Miss Greythorne and I,” with a significant empha- 
sis upon her daughter’s name, “ are, as you see, exceed- 
ingly busy ; still, of course, if you have anything of 
importance to say” — 

“ Thanks,” said Dick, and without waiting for any 
further invitation he drew forward a chair and sat 
down. 

‘‘ I think, my dear,” said her ladyship, turning to 
her daughter, that as Mr. Forrester seems to have 
called on business that you had better leave the room.” 

169 


i7o 


A Woman's No. 


Ida rose obediently from her chair, but Dick jumped 
up and put out his hand to detain her. 

“ Pray do not go,” he said eagerly. ‘‘ I most par- 
ticularly wish you to hear what I have to say ! ” 

Ida sat down again. 

Lady Cressida looked furious. 

“ I cannot imagine that what you can have to say 
can in any way concern my daughter,” she said angri- 
ly ; “ however, pray lose no more time in communica- 
ting your business to me ; if it concerns your parents 
or your sister, for whom I have a great respect, I shall 
be happy to give my attention to what you have to 
say.” 

Then Dick, who was not wanting either in pluck or 
determination, stood boldly up in his place and said 
these words : — 

“What I have come here this morning to say. Lady 
Cressida, is this : I am not a child to be put off with 
empty words, nor am I an inferior to be regarded with 
only one degree less contempt than you would treat 
your footman. I am a man, and I am a gentleman 
born and bred, and I am only inferior to your daugh- 
ter in the matter of money ; in every other particular 
I am her equal, and as her equal I come here to tell 
you and her that to marry her against her will to a 
man she does not love — when you and she know per- 
fectly well that she loves me — is an iniquitous 
action — ” 

“ How dare you speak to me like that ? ” 

“ Pray do not interrupt me. Ida, I have come to 
say to you that I am tired of your vacillation and your 
inaction, and that the time is now come for you to 


A Stormy Scene. 171 

choose between happiness and misery — between truth 
and falsehood — between the man you do not love, and 
do not want to marry, and the man whom you love 
and who should be the only one on earth whose wife 
it can be possible that you should become ! and I am 
here to-day to bid you make your choice boldly before 
your mother’s face, that she may see herself how im- 
possible it is that you should go on with an engage- 
ment that is hateful and odious to you, and can only 
end in utter and life-long misery ! ” 

Lady Cressida could hardly believe her ears — the 
bold and determined words to which she listened al- 
most paralyzed her with dismay. She became white 
with anger. 

“ Leave the room, sir — leave the house instantly,” 
was all that at the first moment she was able to gasp, 
whilst Ida wrung her hands together, sobbing, — 

“ Oh ! Dick — Dick ! pray — pray go away — you have 
made things ten times worse ; mamma will never for- 
give you. Oh ! pray go away ! ” 

But Dick strode across the room to her side and 
took her by the arm, not gently and tenderly, but 
angrily and roughly. He was no soft- voiced, sweet- 
mannered lover, but a man whose passions were all 
strong and vigorous and who would brook no evasion 
and no double-dealing, not even in the woman whom 
he loved with all the strength of his stern nature. 

“ No, I will not go ! ” he said, and his grasp upon 
her arm was so firm and strong that he actually hurt 
her. will not go until you have answered me. 
Either be true to yourself and to your own better 
nature, and to your heart, which is really mine — cast 


I72 


A Woman^s No. 


in your lot with me — or else keep to your fine lover 
and his title, and sink yourself forever in my eyes to 
the most contemptible and despicable creature upon 
the face of the earth. I will have an answer.” 

‘‘ Take your hand off my daughter’s arm ! ” cried 
Lady Cressida. Do you not see you are hurting her ? 
And pray, do you call it the action of a man and a 
gentleman to come here and try to frighten a poor 
girl into disobeying her parents? I am sorry that 
Mr. Greythorne is out, Mr. Forrester.” 

And so am I, Lady Cressida,” said Dick, more 
gently, and loosing his hold of Ida’s arm, for he would 
understand that I am not in a mood to be trifled with ! 
Every man living has a right to an answer when he 
asks a woman to be his wife ; and that answer I will 
receive from your daughter’s own lips ere I leave your 
house ! ” 

‘‘ And pray, Mr. Forrester, what sort of farce do you 
call it to ask a lady to be your wife when you have 
not the means to support her ? ” cried Lady Cressida, 
contemptuously. “You are counting upon my daugh- 
ter’s money, upon which you are hoping to live in 
idleness ! You have nothing of your own to justify 
you in presuming to ask her to marry you ! ” 

“ I beg your pardon. Lady Cressida,” said Dick, firm- 
ly and respectfully. “ To begin with, I am not count- 
ing upon Ida’s money, for I don’t want it, and would 
rather have herself penniless than all the thousands 
which you will probably refuse to give to her should 
she decide to be my wife. I am certainly not count- 
ing upon her money, because I do not want it ; and I 
have, as it happens, the means of supporting a wife. 


A Stormy Scene. 173 

Since I wrote to you last night, Ida,” turning towards 
her — 

‘‘ You dared to write to her ! ” gasped Lady Cressida. 

Dick continued as though he had not heard the inter- 
ruption. 

“ By this morning’s post I have received an offer of 
an agency for an insurance company ; an old friend of 
my mother’s whom I met at dinner last Sunday at my 
uncle’s house, has kindly interested himself on my be- 
half and has got me this appointment ; it is three hun- 
dred a year to begin with, and a prospect of something 
better in a couple of years’ time if I can manage the 
work well. I do not say, Ida, that three hundred a 
year is wealth ; but I do say that if you really love me, 
you will not be afraid to begin life with me upon this ; 
for if your father is too angry with you for marrying me 
to allow you anything at all in addition, I can at any rate 
support you in a humble way.” 

I never heard anything so ridiculous in all my life ! ” 
cried Lady Cressida ; three hundred a year — ^it is not 
enough for her pocket-money ! ” And indeed Ida had 
been accustomed to spend more than that sum annually 
upon her dress and the countless little trifles which she 
was perpetually purchasing. 

“ What do you say, Ida ? ” said Dick, turning to her. 
“ It is for you to decide.” 

Poor Ida stood, turning red and white alternately^ 
the picture of misery and indecision. She knew very 
well that she loved Dick ; but she did not at all know 
that she was prepared to give up everything that had 
made life pleasant to her and to marry him upon three 
hundred a year. If her parents would approve of him, 


174 


A Woman's No. 

and give him her money as well as herself, she would 
be glad enough to throw over Lord Mannering for him 
— but to marry upon three hundred a year — that was a 
very different matter ! 

“ It sounds very little, Dick,” was all she said, trem- 
bling and shivering, poor child, between the angry looks 
of her mother and the imperative demands of her lover. 

And then Dick reached out his hand in silence, and 
took his hat from the table with a brow as black as 
thunder. He walked to the door, and then turned round 
and looked at her, with such scorn and contempt in his 
face as made her cower and shrink, and hide her face 
with a little cry of dismay from his sight. 

“ Good-by, then, you poor, weak, contemptible crea- 
ture ; you have not the strength to be honest, nor the 
courage to be true. I leave you to the fate you have 
chosen ; and I leave you thankfully and almost gladly, 
for you are unworthy of my love ; be happy if you can 
with your money and your loveless life, and may God 
forgive you the bitter wrong you have done to the man 
whom you love ! ” 

The door closed upon him, and the two women heard 
his retreating footsteps go rapidly away down the stairs. 

Ida sprung to her feet ; every vestige of color had 
fled from her face ; with gasping breath, and widely- 
dilated eyes, she stood staring wildly at the door 
through which her lover had vanished ; she had no 
power to speak or to call him back, only his words rang 
like a death knell of happiness and love in her distracted 
ears and upon her half-maddened brain. 

The first thing that roused her was the voice of her 
mother, who came to her side with outstretched arms. 


A Stormy Scene. 175 

“ My brave, noble child ! how well you have behaved 
during this trying scene — ^how proud I am of you, and 
how delighted I am to find that my child has been 
able to show a proper spirit of independence, and a due 
sense of her own position ! ” 

But Ida turned upon her mother such a look of loath- 
ing and hatred, that even Lady Cressida shrank back 
abashed before her. 

« Do not touch me, mamma,” she said in a hoarse, 
broken voice ; “ do not speak to me, if you do not wish 
to hear me say words to you that we should neither of 
us forget until our dying day ! You have ruined my 
life and destroyed my happiness — you have sent away 
from me the only man on earth I shall ever love — and 
you have sent him away loathing and despising me — 
spurning me away with his foot like the mud of the 
street ! Is not that enough work for you for one day ? 
for pity’s sake spare me the additional misery of hear- 
ing you triumph over your handiwork, and leave me 
alone ! ” 

Lady Cressida looked at her in dismay and amaze- 
ment ; she had never seen Ida in this mood before, it was 
something new to her to encounter in her meek and 
gentle daughter this spirit of wild and reckless despair 
like the struggle of an animal that has been hunted to 
the death, and turns at bay at the last in one supreme 
effort of fruitless resistance. 

She shrank back from her daughter’s wild words, 
and from the blaze of anger and indignation in those 
usually soft and lovely eyes. 

“ Ida ! ” she faltered, for once unable to hold her own 
in the face of this new difficulty, “ you fill me with as- 


A Woman’s No. 


176 

tonishment ! I had no idea, of course, you cared for 
the man in this way — a girl’s idle fancy — of course, had 
I understood it was anything more, something might 
have been done — some arrangement might have been 
made — ” 

Ida put up her hand to arrest her words. 

“ Hush ! ” she said shortly, “ the evil is done — it is 
irreparable — it was not all your fault ; alas ! my pun- 
ishment is but too richly deserved — you heard his words 
— his farewell words to me ! — he scorns and despises 
me — he considers me unworthy of his love 1 He will 
never forgive me ; he is too hard ! I know him well 
enough — it is too late now ! ” 

She made a few tottering steps towards the door, 
then suddenly flinging up both arms wildly above her 
head, she sobbed out again, in an agony of despair, — 
‘‘ Too late — too late ! ” then sank down senseless 
across the threshold whence Dick Forrester had so 
lately disappeared from her sight. 


CHAPTER XXL 


A LOVE TRYST. 

« Every evening, wet or fine, I will be under the 
apple tree in the orchard at nine o’clock,” was what 
the man whom in her dreams Hester Forrester called 
‘‘ Mr. Florian ” had said to her. 

It was three days ago since he had said it to her, 
and yet she had never gone out to see whether he had 
kept his word and gone there to meet her. 

All day long she had thought of it, wondering 
whether she should go — debating the thing in her 
own mind — longing to see him again, and yet striving 
to resist the temptation to do what her conscience dis- 
approved of. 

At length, on the third evening after her meeting 
with him, her desire to see him once more overpowered 
her scruples, and her heart Won the day over her con- 
. science. 

She crept softly out of the drawing-room when the 
little trio of ladies had returned to it after their dinner 
was over, and going up to her own room, wrapped her- 
self up in a long warm cloak, and put on her hat. 

‘‘How restless Miss Forrester seems to be in the 
evening now,” observed Mrs. Tracy, when their visitor 
had left the room. 

“ Yes,” said Gertrude, thoughtfully. 

12 177 


A Woman's No. 


178 

She had not been unobservant of her companion’s 
abstraction of mind ; for Hester was too unaccustomed 
to disguise her thoughts, and too candid in disposition 
to be able to conceal with any cleverness the perplexity 
of mind and the fulness of heart which absorbed her. 

Gertrude Tracy had watched her keenly and closely. 

‘‘She is in love,” had said that accurate observer 
to herself, “ and she has seen him again,” and Gertrude 
was determined to let nothing escape her notice. 

A few minutes after Hester had left the room on 
this particular occasion, she rose softly from her couch 
and followed her into the hall. 

There outside, in the darkness of the porch, stood 
Hester, wrapped in her long cloak, looking out into 
the night. She looked up at the star- flecked sky, then 
down the road towards the gate ; half went forward, 
and then again half drew back, as though uncertain as 
to what she would do ; then, finally, appearing to make 
up her mind, she gathered her cloak about her, and 
started forth swiftly into the darkness. 

Gertrude Tracy reached herself a thick shawl from 
the cloak-stand and wound it round her head and 
shoulders, and, after waiting for a few moments in the 
hall, she followed the footsteps of her friend. 

Under the apple tree at the far end of the orchard a 
man had been restlessly pacing up and down for some 
minutes. Every now and then he paused and listened ; 
then, as only the moan of the night winds among the 
naked branches overhead met his ears, he sighed im- 
patiently, and resumed his walk. 

“ She will not come,” he said half aloud to himself. 
“ How many more nights am I going to wait here in 


179 


A Love Tryst. 

this manner ? I could never have believed that any 
woman would have had the power to make me dance 
about night after night in a damp orchard in this 
fashion. What is the use of it all ? what am I doing 
it for ? what is it to lead to ? — lucky indeed for her, 
did she only know it, if she does not come — for, alas ! 
what can I give her ? and yet if I could but know one 
single moment of happiness — if I could but hold her 
once in my arms and press my lips but once to hers, it 
seems to me as if then I could go away and forget her, 
and the rest of my life would be more bearable to 
me.” 

Then suddenly his heart leaped up wildly and tumul- 
tuously, for there, amongst the dark trunks of the 
trees, he saw a female figure coming towards him. 
He sprang joyfully to meet her. 

“ Hester ! is it really you ? This is indeed good of 
you.” 

She hardly answered him, save by a vague inaudible 
murmur, and she strove to withdraw her hands from 
his close grasp, but Florian was at the hour of his 
triumph, since she had come to him ; he knew surely 
enough that her heart must be his, and all the hunger 
and longing that he had felt for her presence was un- 
able any longer to be satisfied, save in the full knowl- 
edge and certainty of her love. 

‘‘ My darling,” he murmured, drawing her passion- 
ately towards him, and in another instant her head 
rested upon his shoulder, her wildly-beating heart was 
strained to his own, and his lips were raining down 
close, hot kisses upon hers. 

Was there ever rose without a thorn, or a garden of 


i8o 


A Woman's No. 


Eden where the trail of the serpent was not left over 
the fairest parterre of flowers ? 

No sooner had Mannering realized the passionate 
wish of his heart and tasted of that bliss which a few 
minutes ago he had told himself would raise him to 
the highest pinnacle of human happiness — nay, ere yet 
the kiss of love was over — than the reaction and the 
horror against his own conduct, which was inevitable 
to a man of honor and of good feeling, shot like a pang 
of physical pain through his heart. 

‘‘ I am behaving like an unprincipled brute,” he said 
to himself, and almost unconsciously he put Hester’s 
yielding form a little farther from him ; “ if I heard of 
such conduct in any other man I should consider him 
unworthy of the name of gentleman.” 

And then a gleam of flickering starlight fell upon 
Hester’s lovely face and upon all the bewildering 
beauty of her grand, dark eyes — there was no longer 
any concealment or any reticence in their soul-enchant- 
ing depths ; all her love shone pure and fervent 
through the “ windows of her soul.” To Hester, who 
had rested upon her lover’s heart and had raised her 
lips to his, there was no longer any concealment or 
any artiflce necessary to hide her from his eyes. She 
was of too noble a nature to go through the farce of a 
reticence which she longer felt —such an idea would 
have seemed to her to be pure childishness. Florian 
could see all the strength of love — all the utter abandon- 
ment of self — in those upturned eyes that met his con- 
fidingly and adoringly. Unspeakable remorse filled 
his soul as he saw it. 

“ How good you are to trust yourself to me in this 


A Love Tryst. i8i 

way ! ” he cried. “ How do you not know that I am 
not deceiving and tricking you? You know nothing 
of me, and yet you give yourself to me without a 
thought or a suspicion ! ” 

‘‘ Why should I not trust you ? ” she answered, smil- 
ing, and coming back of her own accord within the 
loving shelter of his arms. “ Have you not truth and 
honor and goodness written in your face ? It is true 
that I have known but little of you — that your position 
in life, your pursuits or your profession, your people 
and your kindred, are subjects upon which I know 
absolutely nothing. I know one thing only — that you 
love me, and that is enough for me ; in your own good 
time, I daresay, you will tell me all that is right and 
fitting for me to know ; but I ask for nothing but your 
love — I desire nothing but to give you my own ! ” 

He drew her silently and closely to his heart, unable 
to find words wherewith to answer her. For some . 
minutes he caressed her in absolute silence. It came 
into his mind to tell her all — to confess the whole truth 
to her, to throw herself entirely upon her love and 
her mercy. If he had but done so ! 

But then the weakness of his nature made him 
shrink from such a step. What if her love of truth 
and of honor should recoil horror-stricken from his 
falseness to Ida and his duplicity to herself ? What if 
the discovery of his double-dealing should poison all 
the fountain-heads of her love and turn the sweet 
spring of her devotion into bitterness and hatred? 
The risk, he felt, was too great to be encountered ; he 
did not dare to tell her the truth. But neither would 
he continue to pour smooth- worded falsehoods into her 


i 82 


A Woman's No. 


pure and confiding ears. Something, he felt, must he 
told her — something to let her understand that he had 
led her basely into a path that was not all of roses. 

So he chose a middle way, that was neither wholly 
false nor yet Avholly true. 

‘‘ My darling,” he said, I fear I have behaved ter- 
ribly badly to you.” 

She looked up for one moment, with a little surprise, 
into his face, and then, with a confiding smile, nestled 
down closer again into his arms. 

“ Do you know that I had no business to make love 
to you at all ? The fact is, I — I am not in a position to 
marry you — ” 

“You are poor, I suppose,” she said quickly. “Of 
course — I had guessed it. Do you suppose I mind 
that ? Can we not be true to each other, and wait — for 
years, if need be ? ” 

“ It is not only that,” he went on hesitatingly, un- 
willing, however, to undeceive her upon so convenient 
and useful a plea as that of poverty, since she herself 
had invented it, “ there are family reasons as well ; my 
relations will not allow me to marry as I wish. Our 
engagement will have to be kept a secret ; no one on 
earth must know of it but our two selves. It might 
be fatal to our happiness were any of my family to 
have the slightest suspicion of it.” 

“ I do not like secrecy,” said Hester, slowly. 

“ Nevertheless, my own, it is secrecy which, alas ! I 
am forced to demand from you.” 

“And for how long is this secrecy to be main- 
tained ? ” 

“ That, I fear, I cannot tell you ; it will depend so 


A Love Tryst. 183 

much upon circumstances — circumstances which, alas ! 
I have no power to explain to you, for they concern 
other persons as well as myself, and I am utterly un- 
able to tell you of them. Hester, can you consent to 
trust me, even upon such terms as these ? ” 

She was silent for a minute, absorbed in painful and 
bewildering thought, then suddenly she flung her 
arms impetuously up about his neck. 

It is not likely that I should refuse you the very 
first thing that you have asked of me?” she cried. 
‘‘ What is there on earth I would not do for you, my 
o^vn, my love ? Trust you ? Of course I trust you, 
with my whole life and my whole love, until death 
shall divide my faithful heart from yours.” 

I think that Lord Mannering never felt so utterly 
small in his own eyes, so utterly foolish and contempt- 
ible in his own estimation, as at that minute, when the 
women he loved hung about his neck and poured 
forth those passionate and adoring words into his 
ears. 

He could And no words to answer her ; he only 
kissed her in silence. There are times when kisses, 
like charity, cover a multitude of sins. They All 
in a number of gaps in the fond converse of lovers 
which would otherwise yawn awkwardly and un- 
pleasantly perceptible in their interviews. A sense of 
boredom, a slight weariness with each other, and, as in 
the present instance, a want of openness and truth on 
one side, and a too fervently-expressed confldence on 
the other, may all be comfortably bridged over by a 
few kisses. They All up the vacant spaces, are emi- 
nently appropriate and fltting to the occasion, are 


A Woman's No. 


184 

generally received with gratitude and pleasure, and 
are taken to mean — oh ! so infinitely more than they 
actually do. 

Thus Hester was perfectly satisfied by her lover’s 
silent kisses, whilst he, in the exercise of an expected 
attention which was excessively agreeable and pleas- 
ant to himself, found means to evade a dangerous 
topic and to renew their intercourse upon a safer and 
less difficult basis. 

“ You will meet me here again to-morrow, love ? ” he 
murmured fondly. 

‘‘Yes, of course, if you wish it,” she answered, 
“ since it is evident that I must be satisfied with seeing 
you in the dark at present ; and now I must go in, or 
I shall be missed. Do you know, Mr. Florian,” laugh- 
ingly, “ that I do not even know your Christian name ? 
What am I to call you ? ” 

“ John is my* other name,” answered Florian, truth- 
fully enough, for he was christened John Florian ; 
but he was thankful for the darkness which concealed 
the fiush that rose to his brow from her eyes. 

“ Then good-by, John,” she said softly, and lifted 
her lips once more to his. 

They parted with a long and tender embrace, with 
many broken words of loving regret, and many low- 
voiced vows of meeting again on the morrow ; and 
long after her figure had disappeared amongst the 
twisted orchard trees towards the house, Florian stood 
watching the spot whence her dark form had vanished 
from his sight. 

At length he, too, turned and left the place. Then, 
and not till then, a dark form rose stealthily from be- 


A Love Tryst. 185 

hind a clump of trees, where, favored by a depression 
in the. ground, it had hitherto crouched unseen, and 
stood up in its place, some few yards from where the 
lovers had so lately parted. 

You are a nice sort of young man! ” said Gertrude 
Tracy, aloud, with a short, bitter laugh, clenching her 
fist savagely in the direction in which Lord Manner- 
ing had disappeared. “ After all these years, my 
lord, I think I see my way to pay you back at last ! ” 


CHAPTER XXII. 


LORD MANNERING’s PROPOSITION. 

« It is time your wedding-day was fixed, my boy,” 
said Mannering’s grandfather to him one morning at 
breakfast. 

Lady Mannering, who spent as much of her time 
awry from her father-in-law’s house as possible, had 
left Wilmerton for a few days’ visit in a neighboring 
county. 

“ Oh, as long as you are so unwell, my dear sir — ” 
began Mannering. 

‘‘ Pooh ! stuff and nonsense ! you talk as if I was 
on my death-bed. There is nothing to put off your 
marriage. Let it be fixed at once, and let it be as soon 
as possible.” 

‘‘ Miss Greythorne is getting her trousseau ready. 
I don’t know how long that operation takes.” 

“ Oh ! a sensible girl can always manage to curtail 
her shoppings if necessary. By the way, Florian, it 
seems to me that for an attentive lover you are seldom- 
er in town, and oftener down here, than you ought to be. 
If I were Miss Greythorne I should not like it. You 
had better leave me now, my boy, and take up your 
quarters in town.” 

‘‘ I assure you, sir, that I infinitely prefer being here,” 
said his grandson, with some eagerness. 

i86 


Lord Mannering’s Proposition. 187 

The old man looked at him sharply. 

“ You are not up to any more follies, I trust? ” he 
said suspiciously. 

“ My dear grandfather ! ” 

‘‘ Well, well, a burnt child dreads the fire, you know ; 
and I must tell you, Florian, that it has crossed my 
mind that you might be running after that girl at the 
Grange again.” 

“ Sir ! What girl ? ” faltered Florian, turning red 
and white alternately. 

‘‘ What girl ? Why, that sly, underhand little minx, 
Gertrude Tracy, whom you made an idiot of yourself 
over once before. What other girl do you suppose I 
mean ? ” 

“ Oh ! Gertrude Tracy ! ” cried Mannering, laugh- 
ing, and feeling unspeakably :relieved, for at the first 
moment the “ girl at the Grange ” seemed to his guilty 
conscience to point to no one else than Hester. “ I could 
not think whom you meant at first. No, you need 
not alarm yourself on her account. I do not think I 
am in any danger from thatiyoung woman’s fascinations 
now, whatever I may have been as a youngster.” 

‘‘ Well, well, I am glad of it,” said Lord Wilmerton, 
pacified, but only half satisfied. I certainly have 
seen you sneaking across the park once or twice in 
that direction of late. I can only hope there’s no 
woman at the bottom of it.” 

“ That is scarcely likely,” said Florian, and Hastened 
to turn the conversation into other channels. 

The old man, however, seemed determined to pursue 
the subject of his grandson’s marriage, and to urge its 
being fixed at an early date. 


i88 


A Woman’s No. 


He talked and talked about it till poor Mannering 
was driven nearly distracted, and finally made some 
excuse of letters to write for the early post in order to 
leave the room. 

When the two met again at lunch, Florian found to 
his dismay that there was more than mere talk in the 
matter. 

‘‘ Well, I have done a fine stroke of business this 
morning, my boy,” said the old gentleman, cheerfully, 
rubbing his hands together. 

“ Pray, what is that, sir ? ” inquired Florian, with 
polite unconcern, as he helped himself to cold beef. 

“ I have written to Lady Cressida, in your name and 
in my own, to ask her to fix the very earliest day 
possible for your Avedding.” 

Lord Mannering as nearly lost his temper as his 
respect to his grandfather admitted of. 

“ Really, sir ! I do think you might have left so 
delicate a task to me. Ida will consider it most strange, 
most unaccountable, that such a topic should have 
been broached by any one else than by myself.” 

“ Nonsense ! I mentioned your name particularly 
as joining me in the request ; and if I know anything 
of the old lady — no disrespect to your mother-in-law in- 
tended, my boy — she will be quite flattered and pleased 
that I should take the trouble of writing to her my- 
self about it.” 

The first post was irretrievably gone — beyond recall. 
Remonstrance was in vain, anger could avail nothing. 
Lord Mannering swallowed his disgust, as well as his 
luncheon, in silence, and made his escape from the 
room as the ungenial meal was concluded, 


Lord Mannering’s Proposition. 189 

For the rest of the day he was utterly wretched. 
His difficulties seemed to be closing upon him on every 
side ; he could see no way to escape out of them. His 
engagement to Ida bound him down hand and foot, and 
his grandfather’s interference would too probably only 
rivet his chains the closer and lead him still nearer to 
the conclusion of a now hateful marriage. On the 
other hand, to give up Hester was still more impossible. 
He loved her with his whole heart and soul. Every 
evening meeting with her — and several more had taken 
place since the first — increased his devotion to her, and 
rendered her dearer to him. The mere thought of re- 
signing her was more than he was able to contemplate ; 
it was impossible ; and yet it is certain that it was 
equally impossible to marry them both. What, then, 
was he to do ? 

To pursue any other less honorable course with 
regard to Hester was clearly out of the question, 
neither did such a thing even enter into his head ; but 
then, if his marriage with Ida Grey thorne was inevi- 
table, what, in the name of fortune, was he to do about 
Hester Forrester ? Why, he asked himself angrily — • 
why could not that meddlesome old man leave him 
alone in peace to his happiness and his fool’s paradise ? 
He had shut his eyes successfully to the future ; he 
had lived in the delight of the present and he had been 
happy ; but now — all was altered, and he was a mis- 
erable man. 

At length a bold idea suggested itself to him. What 
if he were — like Alexander of old — to cut the Gordian 
knot of his difficulties in twain with one stroke ? He 
shrank froni the dishonor of an explanation with Ida — 


IQO 


A Woman’s No. 


from the scandal and the confusion which such a course 
of action would entail ; from the family indignation, 
the anger of Lady Cressida, the tears and the fainting 
fits probably of Ida herself. He simply had felt it im- 
possible to subject himself by his own doing to such 
an ordeal, in which his own family and Ida’s would 
equally and most deservedly cry shame upon him. 
But how would it be were he to fly from all this, leav- 
ing the storm and the confusion to rage themselves out 
behind his back? The idea of taking Hester away 
with him secretly, of persuading her to go with him to 
London, there to be married early in the morning, and 
then at once to carry her off abroad, presented itself to 
his mind with a thousand advantages and attractions. 
He would in this manner escape all that he dreaded ; he 
would leave his perplexities all behind him ; he need 
not return until the storm should be over. A letter to 
Ida would be far easier to write than personally to en- 
counter her despair and her mother’s fury ; and above 
all, once married to Hester he would be able safely to 
own to her the deception he had practised upon her 
with respect to his name and position. Moreover, a 
runaway marriage presented a good many charms to 
his somewhat poetical and romantic mind. There 
would be something delightful, it seemed to him, in 
carrying off his bride secretly and by night ; in marry- 
ing her without bridesmaids or breakfast, settlements 
or speeches ; in having her all to himself, without any 
interference from a crowd of relations ; and then, like 
the Lord of Burleigh, how charming it would be to re- 
veal to her that he was no poor and obscure man who 
had thus wooed his bride, but the bearer of a noble 


Lord Mannering's Proposition. 191 

name and the heir of an ancient and aristocratic 
house. 

Full of this delightful idea, Lord Mannering awaited 
with some impatience the arrival of the evening hour 
when he should be able to impart to Hester his plans. 

He had arranged and settled them all in his mind 
before nine o’clock came — down to the minutest detail ; 
there was, however, one person whom he had forgotten 
to consider in making these arrangements, and that 
was Hester herself. 

Great was his disappointment and consternation 
when, at the very first excited and somewhat inco- 
herent words by which he revealed his project to her, 
she shrank away almost in horror from his arms. 

“ Do you mean that you want me to run away with 
you ? ” she said in amazement. 

“Well, darling, you may call it running away if you 
like, but we can go as quietly as you like. We have 
nothing to do but to walk half a mile across the fields 
to the station and take the ten o’clock train up to town. 
I will find you a lodging with an old servant for the 
night, and I shall have a license all ready, and Ave can 
be married the very first thing in the morning, and be 
off to Paris before twelve o’clock.” 

“ But,” said Hester, more bewildered and more 
puzzled by this extraordinary proposition than she 
knew how to express, “ but, dearest, what is the oc- 
casion for such an action ? have I not told you that I 
will wait any time — years, if need be — until you are 
able to overcome the difficulties you hinted to me, and 
to marry me openly ? Is it possible that you doubt my 
constancy and my truth to you ? ” 


A Woman^s No. 


192 

“ ISTo, not for worlds ; but I should be far happier 
married to you,” was the only argument which he 
could find to urge. 

Hester was silent for a few minutes, then she said 
very gravely and earnestly, — 

“ I can never consent to marry you in such a manner, 
John. Dearly as I love you, I have others in the world 
besides you — my father and mother — my brother ; for 
your sake I have consented to keep our engagement a 
secret from them, but I will never do anything to bring 
discredit upon my family, nor be married to any man 
in such a fashion that it may be said of me that I was 
doing something shameful and disgraceful; neither 
shall you ever have cause to look back to your wed- 
ding-day as a day of humiliating self-reproach ! You 
must make me your wife boldly and openly in the face 
of the whole world, or I will never be your wife at all ! ” 

Here was a dead-lock to all his hopes and plans ! In 
vain Lord Mannering implored and entreated, in vain 
he reproached her for want of trust in him — for luke- 
warmness of affection. Hester remained as adamant. 

“ I love you with all my heart ! ” she said, “ and you 
know that I do, but I will never consent to marry you 
in such a fashion ! ” 

And from this determination there was no moving 
her. The whole of Hester’s nature revolted against 
the scheme ; there was an amount of duplicity, a sug- 
gestion of wrongdoing, almost amounting to guilt, about 
it, which was absolutely abhorrent to her honest and 
open character ! It had been an effort — how great no 
one but herself knew — to consent to a secret engage- 
ment, and to the stealthy method of their meetings ; it 


Lord Mannering's Proposition. 193 

was not what she liked or approved of, but for her 
lover’s sake she had make this concession to his wishes, 
but to ccttisent to a runaway marriage was utterly be- 
yond her. 

In vain were all his pleadings and his prayers ; she 
would not yield to him. 

‘‘ Think over it all to-morrow, and let me know in 
the evening,” he said at last. 

If I thought over it until doomsday my answer 
would be the same ! ” replied Hester. 

“ I trust and hope your love for me will lead you to 
give me a more favorable reply. I will not take this 
as final.” 

She shook her head, and the lovers parted somewhat 
coldly. 

Gertrude Tracy had been again a listener to their 
interview ; as she followed slowly in Hester’s foot- 
steps back to the house she laughed softly to herself. 

« I can see my way to a very pretty little plan in- 
deed. Oh ! how nicely you are playing into my hands, 
my lord ; and what a charming little retaliation I am 
preparing for you and for your insolent old grand- 
father ; it will be killing two birds with one stone ! ” 
and she could not help laughing aloud as she thought 
over it. 

The next morning, at an early hour. Lord Wilmer- 
ton sent for his grandson, and, with a face of grave 
concern, placed in his hands a telegram he had just 
received from Lady Cressida Greythorne : — 

“ My daughter dangerously ill ; pray send Lord Man- 
nering at once ! Can give no answer to your letter at 
present.” 


CHAPTER XXIIL 


Ida’s illjs^ess. 

There was consternation and woe at Eaton Square, 
and great lamentation and weeping, for Ida lay 
dangerously ill of brain fever. The shock of that 
painful scene when Dick had left her with words of 
contempt and loathing had been very great; but al- 
though ill and upset, she might have escaped a severe 
attack had not Lord Wilmerton’s letter, following so 
immediately upon it, added a still further strain to her 
already weakened system. 

Lord Wilmerton had been right in supposing that 
Lady Cressida would be flattered by his letter. She 
was delighted with it, and took it in triumph to her 
daughter, imagining that it would furnish her with an 
additional inducement to enable her to hasten on the 
marriage. She little foresaw the effect it would have 
upon Ida. 

“You see, my dear, there is no more shillyshallying 
possible,” had said Lady Cressida to her as she handed 
her Lord Wilmerton’s letter. “Read this for yourself, 
and see how deeply your honor is pledged to carry out 
your engagement. They are eager that the day should 
be flxed. It is impossible, after this letter, that there 
can be any further delay ; it must be settled at once. 
I will speak to your father this very afternoon, so that 
194 


Ida’s Illness. 195 

I may answer Lord Wilmerton’s most kind letter to- 
day.” 

Poor Ida only clasped her hot, trembling hands to- 
gether and murmured, — 

“ Oh, mamma ! have mercy upon me, I beseech you ! ” 
Mercy ! Fiddlesticks ! ” cried her ladyship 
sharply. “ I never heard such rubbish in my life ! 
What does a girl who is going to make the best match 
of the year want with mercy indeed ? I never heard 
anything so sensational and so absurd in all my life ! ” 

Ida answered never a word. The day wore on ; Mr. 
Greythorne came in, and Lady Cressida sought him 
in his study. 

“A most flattering letter from Lord Wilmerton, 
Tom. He and dear Mannering seem most anxious for 
the wedding-day to be fixed, and really I see no reason 
why it should be deferred. What do you say ? ” 

“ I am sure I have no objection, my dear. It is for 
you and Ida to decide. I thought there was this 
trousseau.” 

“ Oh, we can easily finish that off now. Everything 
is ordered, and most of the things have been sent home 
already. There is no reason why the marriage should 
not take place in a fortnight; it would please the 
earl.” 

“Well, if everybody wishes it, I am quite willing 
that it should be so. Wait a minute, Cressida,” for 
his wife was already at the door. 

She paused, holding it half open, and looked back 
at him. 

“ Are you quite sure, my dear, that the child is per- 
fectly happy about her marriage ? ” 


A Woman's No. 


196 

« Who — Ida ? Why, of course she is ! What can 
make you think she is not ? ” 

“ I don’t know — I had a fancy. Once I caught her 
in tears, and she wouldn’t tell me what she was cry- 
ing for ; and I have fancied that she looks thin and ill 
of late. She has lost her pretty color — she is either 
as white as a sheet or else she flushes unnaturally at 
the slightest thing. Are you perfectly certain she is 
satisfied with her prospects ? ” 

“ My dear Tom, not the slightest doubt of it ! But 
to tell you the truth, an engagement is a trying time 
to a girl. There are little contretemps^ uncertainties 
and misunderstandings which, until people are actually 
married, it is difficult to clear away ; and I daresay 
you yourself may have noticed that Mannering is not 
here so often as might be ? ” 

“ Yes, indeed I have noticed it,” cried her husband, 
decidedly ; “ and by Jove, if you think the fellow 
doesn’t appreciate his good fortune, he shan’t have my 
girl at any price.” 

“My dear Tom,” said Lady Cressida, laughing, “how 
you do run away with an idea ! Of course he appre- 
ciates Ida fully ; but he is very much tied to his grand- 
father just now, and it is difficult for him to be here as 
much as he would wish. Of course, when they are 
married, he can take her there and it will be all right ; 
but meanwhile it has been a little trying to poor Ida, 
and no doubt she is not looking well. I think, for her 
own happiness, the sooner she is married the better.” 

“ Then by all means let the marriage be soon. I 
would not have the child worried for the world ! ” said 
her father, decidedly. 


Ida's Illness. 197 

Lady Cressida retired triumphant, and went upstairs 
to impart her news to her daughter. 

“ You are to be married in a fortnight, Ida. Your 
father has given his consent, and I am going to write 
to Lord Wilmerton at once, to settle the day. Shall 
it be on Wednesday the 18th or Thursday the 19th ? ” 

Ida stared at her for a moment as if she had hardly 
heard her — a look of blank horror came into her eyes ; 
she put her hands up to her head as though she had 
been struck — then suddenly there burst from her lips 
a wild, shrill scream, that rang with a fearful dis- 
tinctness through the stillness of the house, summoning 
Mr. Greythorne in terrified haste from his study, and 
sending the servants flying in every direction. They 
carried Ida up to her room in the raving madness of a 
wild delirium — she knew no one about her — she beat 
the air with her hands and cried aloud for help. 

Save me ! save me ! ” were the only words that 
for hours she uttered over and over again with a pitiful 
and painful reiteration. 

Three doctors, summoned in desperate haste, were 
ere long by her bedside. Ice was applied to her head, 
and everything done that science could suggest to 
lower her temperature. But for some hours after the 
first attack the fever ran so high that when Lady 
Cressida said weepingly to the eminent physician who 
presided in the sick-room, — 

“ She was to have been married in a fortnight,” he 
answered her, gravely, — 

‘‘ Then if you think the gentleman she is engaged 
to would wish to see her again, I should strongly 
advise you to telegraph to him at once. I cannot 


igS A Woman's No. 

tell how things may turn during the night ; it is all a 
toss up.” 

So instead of her projected letter to Lord Wilmer- 
ton, Lady Cressida had to telegraph to him to send up 
Lord Mannering at once. She was very unhappy, 
poor woman — it was in vain that she said to herself 
that no one could ever have foreseen it, or have im- 
agined that a sweet-tempered girl like Ida could have 
worried herself literally into an illness about a man 
whom no parents in their senses would have allowed 
her to marry. For of course she knew that it was all 
about Dick Forrester that Ida was so ill, and that she 
herself had persecuted and goaded her on to madness. 

‘‘ I ought to have let her alone, things would have 
worked round all right in time,” said the poor woman 
weepingly, to herself ; but then, how was I to know 
she would take things so seriously as this ? ” 

It was an aggravation of her wretchedness also to 
witness her husband’s absolute despair. Mr. Grey- 
thorne was almost beside himself with misery. After 
all, Ida was the only one thing the two possessed on 
earth to love, and if she were taken from them, their 
lives would be empty indeed. 

Very late that night Lord Mannering arrived in 
Eaton Square. He wore, it is true, a face of deep con- 
cern ; but either he did not realize the extent of Ida’s 
danger, or else he concealed his feelings more cleverly 
than did the weeping parents who met him in the 
drawing-room. As it happened, just before he arrived 
there had been a slight abatement in the symptoms of 
the fever, and no one, not even Lady Cressida, was 
allowed to enter the sick-room, Ida’s delirious cries 


Ida's Illness. 


199 


had subsided into low, inarticulate moans, and her 
frantic efforts to leave her bed into restless tossings 
from side to side. 

There was nothing for Lord Mannering to do but to 
hear all the sad details over and over again, and to 
press in sympathy the hands of the afflicted parents. 

I was on the point of writing to your grandfather 
to fix your wedding for the 18th,” said Lady Cressida, 
weeping. 

Lord Mannering felt himself to be the most fearful 
hypocrite. He was forced to make some suitable 
answer, whilst internally he ejaculated an involuntary 
‘‘ Thank God ! ” that the letter which would have fixed 
his doom had never been sent ! 

“I cannot imagine what brought it on,” said Mr. 
Greythorne, for the hundredth time. 

‘‘ Dr. A said it must have been brewing for some 

time,” said Lady Cressida. 

“He suggested trouble of mind, too; but what 
trouble could the poor darling have had that we should 
know nothing about ? ” 

Then somebody called Mr. Greythorne from the 
room, and Lady Cressida was left alone with her future 
son-in-law. Even at such a time as this Lady Cres- 
sida could not help making use of an opportunity. 
Mr. Grey thorne’s last remark suggested an appropriate 
observation to her. 

“I did not like to tell her father — it would only 
aggravate his unhappiness, poor man ! ” she said con- 
fidentially ; “ but I fear, my dear boy, that possibly 
you may have been — indirectly, of course, but still, in 
some measure — ^to blame for this illness.” 


200 


A Woman’s No. 


“ I, Lady Cressida ! ” exclaimed Florian. “ How can 
that be possible ? ” 

‘‘Well, my dear Florian” — laying her hand 
soothingly upon his arm — “ pray don’t be angry with 
me ; but at such a time as this I feel I must speak the 
truth at all risks.” 

“ Certainly I Pray say what you mean.” 

“ Well, I think if you had been with her a little 
more — you see she is very sensitive — I know she has 
fancied things — that you were not quite so devoted, 
perhaps — indeed, I never thought so. I know quite 
well it is only your manner, and that your heart is in 
the right place ; still, if you had come here a little 
oftener, perhaps — Well, well ! I will say no more, for 
I see that I am giving you pain ; but the poor child is 
very much in love with you.” 

And when Lady Cressida made that speech to him 
Lord Mannering felt himself to be a brute indeed ! 

There was so much truth in what she said — so in- 
finitely more truth, indeed, than she at all suspected 
— that he was smitten to the heart with remorse and 
repentance. 

Ida on, perhaps, what might prove to be her death- 
bed — and he, by his neglect and unkindness, had been 
the cause of her illness ! It was enough to smite the 
stoniest heart with remorse — and Florian’s was of 
the tenderest. All he could do was to stammer con- 
fusedly, — 

“ What can I do — what can I do for her ? ” 

“ Make it up to her when she gets well — if it pleases 
God to restore her to life,” said Lady Cressida, fer- 
vently, pressing his hand. 


Ida’s Illness. 


201 


Florian bent his head in assent. He could not speak. 
Sorry as he was for Ida — and he was very sorry for 
her — and guilty as he felt himself to be with regard to 
her — he could not forget Hester ; nor could he, for the 
life of him, help thinking that if poor Ida were not to 
get better, how very much all his troubles would be 
smoothed away, and what a solution of his difficulties 
it would be ! It was horribly wicked, of course, to let 
such a thought even flash through his mind, and he 
felt shocked and horrifled at himself for it ; but, never- 
theless, the thought came in spite of himself, and re- 
curred to him again and again throughout the long 
watches of that dreary night. 

Nobody went to bed. Mannering could do no good ; 
but it would have looked heartless if he had gone away, 
so he stayed, and they all sat up the whole night long in 
the drawing-room ; and dreary enough it was. Every 
hour a report came down from the sick-room — some- 
times a shade better, but generally there was no change 
in the state of the patient. Then Lady Cressida would 
break out into tears afresh, and Mr. Greythorne would 
groan aloud, and Lord Mannering did his best to com- 
fort them; but he felt that he Avould have given a 
thousand pounds gladly to have had moral courage 
enough to get up and go away out of the house. 

But he could not do it. Then, early in the morning, 
just as the dim gray light came creeping through the 

shutters, down came Dr. A in person, and told 

them that Ida had fallen into a deep sleep. 

If we can keep up her strength we shall pull her 
through now,” he said. 

So the verdict had gone forth that she was to live 
and not die. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 


WHAT MR. GREYTHORNE THOUGHT OF IT. 

Dick Forrester was mercifully spared the knowl- 
ledge of Ida’s illness until she was pronounced to be 
out of danger. It was only when she was so far bet- 
ter that Lord Mannering, not being able to be of the 
slightest use, felt that he could with decency think of 
going back to Wilmerton, and had made up his mind 
to return thither the following day, that Dick called 
at the door of Eaton Square for the first time to make 
anxious and terrified inquiries after her. 

As he stood at the open hall door, not content with 
the footman’s stereotyped answer, and cross- question- 
ing him in order to extract more minute information 
from him, it chanced that Mr. Greythorne crossed the 
hall from the dining-room on his way to his study, and 
glancing towards the open door, recognized the in- 
quirer. 

Hallo ! is that you, Dick Forrester ? I did not see 
who it was at first. You have come for news of my 
poor little girl ? She is better, thank God ! Lady 
Cressida is upstairs with her, or I daresay she would 
see you ” — for Mr. Greythorne was, of course, in com- 
plete ignorance of the manner in which his wife had 
treated Dick, ‘‘ Come into my study for a minute if 
you have time.” 


202 


What Mr. Greythorne Thought of It. 203 

Dick thankfully accepted the invitation, and went 
in. Mr. Greythorne, although he had not troubled his 
head much about the Forresters, was always pleasant 
and friendly to any of them he met by chance. He 
was also not sorry to find somebody to talk to, for a 
sick house is a dismal place for a man who is no 
earthly use in it ; and now the first painful excitement 
of Ida’s illness was over, her father felt it dull to be 
doomed to eat his breakfast and dinner alone, because 
Lady Cressida was always in Ida’s room. 

He entered forthwith into a long account of his 
daughter’s illness, to which Dick listened with a breath- 
less interest and a face of deepest concern. 

‘‘ Ah, you were always friends as children ! ” said 
Mr. Greythorne. ‘‘ I am sure you are sorry for her. 
But the singular thing to me is what on earth can have 
brought on this illness ; it puzzles me entirely. The 
doctors keep on saying that it must have been some 
trouble of the mind, but, of course, as her mother says, 
that must be all rubbish, because she couldn’t have 
had any trouble that we could not have known about ; 
and yet even now she doesn’t seem herself at ail, but 
lies quite still and silent, never smiling nor speaking, 
only she heaves such deep, long sighs, that it makes 
me quite miserable to hear her — indeed, I can’t bear 
to be in the room. I never stay more than a minute 
or two ; but it really does seem as if they were right, 
and she had something weighing on her mind.” 

“ Mr. Greythorne, I think I can tell you what your 
daughter’s trouble is,” said Dick. 

The old gentleman stared at his visitor in surprise. 

« Eh ? What ? ” he said, pulling off his spectacles, 


204 


A Woman^s No. 


and rubbing them as though there had been something 
in them that prevented his seeing clearly as well as 
hearing aright. “ What did you say, Dick Forrester ? ” 

‘‘ I said, sir, that I can tell you the cause of your 
daughter’s illness, and the trouble that is preying upon 
her mind.” 

‘‘ I am quite astonished by what you say. How is it 
possible that you can know anything about my daugh- 
ter?” 

“ Because, sir,” answered Dick, boldly, “ I love her 
with all my heart, and she loves me in return.” 

‘‘ Good Heavens ! ” was all that poor Mr. Greythorne 
could find to ejaculate. 

At the first moment it seemed to him that young 
Forrester must have gone slightly out of his mind ; 
and then he suddenly recollected what he had hitherto 
forgotten — that little episode which had occasioned 
their hasty move from Strathendale to London, when 
Ida had gone over to The Cottage at ten o’clock at 
night, and Lady Cressida had been so terribly upset 
about it, and had been so anxious to hush up the whole 
affair. Poor Mr. Greythorne felt as if, by so impru- 
dently asking the young man into the house, he might 
very likely have brought a hornets’ nest about his ears. 
The situation, he felt, was more than he could manage 
single-handed. 

“I think perhaps I had better send for her lady- 
ship,” he said nervously, moving towards the bell- 
handle. 

But Dick jumped up, and stopped his ringing it. 

“Pray do not send for Lady Cressida, Mr. Grey- 
thorne,” he said earnestly. “ She and I have already 


What Mr. Greythorne Thought of It. 20^ 

talked this matter over fully, and she will have noth- 
ing to say to me.” 

“ Then, Mr. Forrester,” answered Mr. Greythorne, 
with dignity, ‘‘ I do not see what you can expect me to 
say to you.” 

‘‘No. If it were only myself I would bear my dis- 
appointment like a man, and go my way and trouble 
you no further ; but if Ida loves me — if her happiness 
is involved — if her affection for me is so great that she 
is ill to within a danger of her life — how, then, can I 
be expected to hold my tongue ? ” 

“Mr. Forrester,” answered Mr. Greythorne, with 
some warmth, “ I do not believe that my daughter 
loves you — it is inconceivable — impossible ; do you not 
know that she is shortly to be married to Lord Manner- 
ing ? ” 

“ I know it too well, sir ; and I also know that if 
the poor child dared to break off her engagement, she 
would do so ! ” 

Mr. Greythorne looked infinitely distressed. 

“ Do you know that what you are saying involves a 
very serious accusation against Lady Cressida? — if 
what you are telling me has any truth in it, it is tan- 
tamount to an imputation that my wife is forcing Ida 
into a marriage which is repugnant to her.” 

“ If you will inquire into the matter, you will find, 
sir, that what I say is true. Speak to Ida alone, with- 
out her mother, and ask her if it is not true that she 
loves me ! ” 

“ Dear — dear — dear ! ” was all that Mr. Greythorne 
could find to say. 

He was a peace-loving man, desiring quietness and 


2o6 


A Woman^s No. 


tranquillity, and hating everything that was disturbing 
and unpleasant. It was eminently disagreeable to him 
to have been let in for a scene of this kind, and be told 
such astonishing and upsetting things. But for all 
that, below the surface of his indolence and his love of 
a quiet life ; above all things, there lay a deeply-rooted 
affection to his only child. 

Much as he, as well as her mother, had desired her 
to marry well — and sincerely as he approved of the 
man she was engaged to — no considerations of earthly 
advantages, neither of rank nor of wealth, would have 
ever induced him to sacrifice his child’s happiness in 
order to carry out an ambitious marriage in her person. 
In that respect Mr. Greythorne loved his daughter, not 
selfishly, as her mother did, but with a disinterested 
and unselfish affection. 

He was genuinely shocked and horrified by what 
Dick Forrester had said to him — that any one should 
even imagine that Ida was being forced to marry a man 
she did not like was horrible to think of ! Ida, his 
spoiled darling — the child whose slightest whim had 
been granted from her babyhood upwards — that any- 
body could suppose him capable of ruining the whole 
happiness of her life was most distressing to his affec- 
tion as a father, and to his amour propre as a man of a 
kindly and humane disposition. He could not but be- 
lieve that young Forrester must have overstated the 
case. 

“ I think, Mr. Forrester,” he said very gravely, the 
seriousness of their conversation having induced him to 
drop the familiarity of Dick” — “ I cannot help think- 
ing that you have misunderstood the subject. Of 


What Mr. Greythorne Thought of It. 207 

course, if you made a proposal to Lady Cressida for 
my daughter’s hand, it is hut natural that she should 
have declined it. We have other views for our daugh- 
ter ; and even were this not so, you are a poor man, 
and have no means of supporting a wife.” 

I have lately obtained employment, Mr. Greythorne, 
which, were you to help Ida in any way, would enable 
me to marry,” interrupted Dick, respectfully, for he 
was determined to state the whole of his case now that 
he had his opportunity. 

‘‘Well — well,” said Mr. Greythorne, waving his 
hand rather impatiently, “that may be. I am glad 
for your father’s sake you have found something to do ; 
still, even so, it can hardly be said that you are in a 
suitable position to marry my daughter. Lady Cressida 
has been perfectly right in making this clear to you. 
I can quite understand that you have been disappoint- 
ed and unhappy, and if, in the warmth of your feelings, 
you have fancied — ” 

“ I have fancied nothing ! ” cried Dick, interrupting 
him, hotly : “ neither have I considered my own feel- 
ings ! It is Ida whom I have thought of ; and it is her 
feelings, and not my own, which have induced me to 
re-open this subject to you.” 

“ Come — come, my young friend ; a girl’s fancy — 
her naturally affectionate remembrance of the play- 
fellow of her childhood.” 

“ Was it a girl’s fancy, do you think, Mr Greythorne,” 
answered Dick, earnestly, “ or the mere remembrance 
of a childish playmate, which brought your daughter 
across the Lennan alone and unprotected at the dead 
of night in the middle of a storm of rain and wind — 


2o8 


A Woman’s No. 


that induced her to fight her way through the swollen 
waters that she might sink down faint and exhausted 
and wet to the skin at my feet ? What do you suppose 
brought her there ? was that a mere fancy, or was it 
not rather the strong and passionate love of an earnest, 
true-hearted woman for the man whom, in her despair, 
she imagined she should never see again ? ” 

He spoke earnestly and solemnly ; his dark, hand- 
some face gleamed with the strength of his cause and 
the intensity of his pleading ; his very voice shook 
with a nameless emotion. 

Mr. Greythorne was impressed. He had, of course, 
heard about Ida’s escapade upon that unlucky night — 
but he had heard about it from Lady Cressida’s lips ; 
and somehow the story had been very differently told 
him, and had produced upon him a very slender im- 
pression, as related by her, to what it did now. 

Told by Dick Forrester — the man for whose sake 
Ida had been guilty of that breach of every conven- 
tional propriety of life — the tale of her nocturnal ad- 
venture assumed a far more serious and important 
aspect in his estimation. 

All at once a veil seemed lifted from his eyes ; he 
remembered many little things that hitherto had es- 
caped his notice. Ida’s pallor, her loss of spirit and 
of appetite, her frequent tears, which he himself had 
more than once surprised ; all this began to take a new 
meaning and a new importance ; and if Dick For- 
rester’s story was indeed a true one, what part, then, 
had his wife played in all this ? 

Poor Mr. Greythorne felt bewildered and distressed 
beyond measure. 


What Mr. Greythorne Thought of It. 209 

“ Good Heavens ! ” he said, rubbing his hand nervous- 
ly over his bald head, “ what on earth am I to do about 
all this?” 

“ Speak to Ida yourself, sir, as soon as she is able to 
bear it, and learn the truth from her own lips, and do 
not mention the subject to Lady Cressida until you 
have done so.” 

“ No ; perhaps that will be best.” 

“ If what I have said to you is false, then I am 
content to go my way and to trouble you and your 
family no more ; but if you find that I have spoken 
the truth, and that your daughter is attached to me, 
and would give anything to be able to break off her 
present engagement, then I think I need not suggest 
to you what should be your right course of action.” 

Just then an upstairs bell rang violently. 

“It is Lady Cressida,” said Mr. Greythorne, nervous- 
ly. “ I think you had better go — good-by, Dick, good- 
t)y 5 have done right in speaking to me, of course 
— leave me your card, my boy, Avith your address, and 
I will write to you ; there, that’s right, now go 
quickly I ” 

He hurried his visitor away, fearful lest his wife 
should discover him. 

Left alone, the poor gentleman considered his 
position somewhat ruefully. 

“ He has left me a terrible business ! ” he said to 
himself, dejectedly. “ Of course it is my duty to sift 
the whole thing to the bottom for Ida’s sake ; but if it 
should turn out to be true — which I pray Heaven may 
not be the case — it will be a precious awkward matter 
to get her out of this engagement ; and as to my lady, 

14 


210 


A Woman's No. 


oh ! ” and he flung up his hands in a despair that would 
have been comic to an eye-witness had one been 
present, “ I had rather face a mad bull than my lady 
in one of her tantrums.” 


CHAPTER XXV, 


AN ELOPEMENT. 

On the day following that on which Lord Man- 
nering had been hastily summoned up to town by Ida’s 
illness, Hester Forrester had received a letter by post 
from John Florian,” telling her that important busi- 
ness had called him unexpectedly to London, and that 
he must defer until his return her answer to the request 
he had made of her. 

Hester shook her head somewhat sorrowfully over 
this note ; she was well determined never to consent 
to marry him in such a manner as he had proposed, 
but she hoped that her own firmness in the matter 
would rather increase his respect and esteem for her 
than diminish in anyway his affection. 

A few days went by, and then the morning post 
brought her two letters. One was from her brother, 
asking her if she would come up to London for a couple 
of nights : one of Mrs. Wright’s children was away, 
and Hester was welcome to her room, and Dick seemed 
sorely in need of his sister’s sympathy and advice. 
He gave her a long account of Ida’s illness, and his 
own interview with her father, and he entreated her 
to come up that they might talk over everything to- 
gether. Xow, if ever, wrote Dick, he stood in need of 
his sister’s good sense and of her clear-sighted way of 

2H 


'212 


A Woman^s No. 


regarding things. One false step at this crisis of his 
life might cost him his whole happiness ; whereas, by 
her counsel and her wise suggestions, she might 
enable him to win the woman who was the very 
desire of his heart. 

It was impossible for Hester to disregard such a 
letter, or to refuse to grant her brother’s request. But 
then, on the other hand, the same post brought her a 
letter from her lover, telling her that he would be at 
home on the morrow, and would await her under the 
apple tree in the orchard at the usual hour. But never 
in her whole life had Hester Forrester considered her 
own happiness or her own pleasure before her family 
ties and the duty which she owed to other people. It 
was quite clear to her what she ought to do. She took 
both letters in her hand, and went up to Gertrude’s 
room. Gertrude always breakfasted in bed ; she had 
not yet risen. 

‘‘ I have had a letter from my brother,” began Hester ; 
and she was not quite guiltless, at the bottom of her 
heart, of a hope that Gertrude*might perhaps refuse to 
her the permission to go up to London, and thus 
enable her to see her lover with a clear conscience. 
“ He wants me to go up to town for a couple of days. 
He is rather in trouble, poor boy. Could you spare me, 
Gertrude ? ” 

Gertrude Tracy glanced at the letters in her com- 
panion’s hand, and her quick eye recognized a hand- 
writing upon the second envelope which years ago had 
been tolerably familiar to her — it was long — long since 
she had seen it ; but there is one thing a woman never 
iorgets and that is the handwriting of the man she 


An Elopement. 213 

has once loved. Gertrude knew it in a minute ; as she 
paused before replying, Hester hastened to say,~ 

Of course I will not think of going if you do not 
like it, dear,” and there was, unconsciously, a certain 
amount of eagerness in the remark which betrayed the 
undercurrent of thought in her mind to Gertrude’s 
keen understanding. 

“ She is not eager to go to her brother, because he is 
coming back,” she said to herself. ‘‘Now, if ever, is 
my chance ! ” Then she said aloud, quite cordially 
and eagerly, — 

“ My dear Hester, I am delighted that you should go. 
Pray write to your brother and say that you will be 
with him to-morrow — for two days, or three, or four, 
if you like it. I am only too glad that you should be of 
use to him, and also have so pleasant a little change 
up to town.” 

So Hester had no other choice. She wrote to her 
brother and told him she would go up to Mrs. Wright’s 
by a morning train ; and then she took up her pen again, 
and, with some hesitation, she wrote another letter 
also, which she began, “My dearest John.” She told 
him that for two days longer he must wait without see- 
ing her, as she had promised to go up to London to see 
her brother, but that she would meet him on the third 
evening at their usual meeting-place. She addressed 
this letter to the London club from which he had 
written to her; but as she directed it to “John 
Florian, Esq.,” it lay for many weeks unclaimed in 
the porter’s desk, and then no such name having been 
ever known upon the club books, it went to the Dead 
Letter Office — was opened by the clerk in charge, and 


214 


A Woman's No. 


no address or name being found save that of Hester,” 
it vanished forever and was seen no more. 

Late that same afternoon Hester observed as the 
three ladies sat over their five-o’clock tea, — 

“ My brother tells me that Ida Greythorne has been 
very ill — Lady Cressida’s daughter, Mrs. Tracy — but 
you do not know her, do you? ” 

‘‘ No, I never saw her but once when she was a baby. 
Ah ! I heard in the village that she was ill,” said Mrs. 
Tracy. 

“ In the village ! ” repeated Hester astonished ; 
“ how could such a thing be known here ? ” 

“ Oh ! you forget that she is engaged to Lord Man- 
nering, and Lord Wilmerton, down here, is his grand- 
father.” 

‘‘ Oh ! yes, to be sure, I had forgotten ; ” and then, 
after a pause, she added, “ but I suppose Lord Man- 
nering himself is seldom down here ? ” 

It was on the tip of Mrs. Tracy’s tongue to say that 
Lord Mannering had been here for some time, and had 
only just gone up to town, presumably on account of 
Miss Greythorne’s illness ; but over the top of Hester’s 
head, as she stooped over her needlework, Gertrude 
Tracy telegraphed a sign to her mother to be silent. 
Mrs. Tracy was not exactly in her daughter’s secrets, 
but she was aware that some plans of her own were 
brewing with regard to Lord Mannering, and she dis- 
creetly held her tongue, whilst Gertrude remarked 
unconcernedly, — 

“ Oh, no ! he is in London, of course. I think they 
are to be married soon — unless this illness delays it.” 

Hester thought of her brother, and wondered wheth- 


An Elopement. 215 

er Ida’s marriage to Lord Mannering was ever likely 
to come oif at all. She felt that she should know more 
about it when she had seen Dick, and heard all that 
he had to tell her — meanwhile, of course, she said noth- 
ing to the Tracys — and Lord Mannering was a person 
in whom she took but a very feeble interest — she did 
not allude to him again. 

The following morning she took her departure to 
London by an early train, and about half-way to town 
an express down- train — had she but known it ! — bore 
her lover swiftly past her on his return homewards. 

That evening, at the accustomed hour, Florian stood 
alone under the apple tree, awaiting with unusual im- 
patience the appearance of the woman he loved. He 
longed to see her intensely ; the days of absence from 
her had been hard to bear, and had but increased his 
affection and his desire to carry her away* with him, 
and to make her his own. How that Ida was better, 
and that his conscience was more at rest concerning 
her, it seemed to him that if he wished to break away 
from his engagement to her, and to fling every other 
consideration to the winds for the sake of Hester For- 
rester, now if ever, was the time to do it ; and yet, 
knowing Hester as he did, he dreaded that her op- 
position to his schemes would be determined and un- 
wavering. Her strong sense of right, her open and 
truthful disposition, and, above all, her intensely 
honest and innocent nature, would, he felt sure, induce 
her to resist his pleadings to the utmost. Should he 
be able to overcome her resistance ? He could not tell. 
Only, if not, then he felt that in that case he must 
brave everything — exposure, disgrace, scandal; the 


2i6 


A Woman's No. 


anger of his grandfather, and his too probably more 
substantially-expressed displeasure ; everything, in- 
cluding her own disgust - at the deception he had 
practised upon her — all must be risked sooner than 
that he could consent to lose her. 

Meanwhile, she was long in coming to-night, and he 
sighed more than once impatiently and irritably at 
the delay. 

Within the house a woman was wrapping herself 
hastily in Hester Forrester’s long plaid cloak. She had 
found Hester’s garden hat in her bedroom — a drooping, 
shady felt hat around which she had tied a thick veil. 

“ I am about the same height,” she murmured to 
herself as she stood under the glimmer of the hall 
lamp. 

Her mother came creeping out of the drawing-room 
after her. She looked at her in a bewildered and some- 
what terrified manner. 

Oh, Gertrude, my dear ! Do tell me what it is 
you are going to do ? ” she said pleadingly. 

« Mother, I cannot tell you. Wait, and trust in me.’^ 

“ But, my dear, are you sure you are not running a 
risk ? Are you wise in what you are doing ? ” 

I don’t know — I can’t tell ; but I am venturing 
everything. I may win and I may lose. You may 
not see me again, mother, to-night. I may go up to 
town — see, I have my bag.” 

‘‘ Oh, Gertrude ! Take my advice and give it up. If 
it is Lord Mannering, I feel sure it is hopeless.” 

« Hush, mother, you don’t understand. For years I 
have waited for such a chance as this. Think of it — 
revenge, ambition, love, all may be gratified by this one 


An Elopement. 217 

bold stroke ! I can’t explain to you ; if all goes well 
I will write. Have you got the letter for Lord Wil- 
merton ? ” 

‘‘Yes; I locked it safely in my davenport. When 
am I to post it ? ” 

“•To-morrow at five o’clock, if you have heard noth- 
ing from me, you may post it. Good-by, mother. 
Who knows that there may not be a Countess of Wil- 
merton in our family yet ? ” 

She kissed her mother’s cheek lightly, and went out 
into the darkness of the garden. 

Five minutes later the impatient heart of the lonely 
lover in the orchard was gladdened by the sight of 
the darkly-cloaked and veiled figure that came swiftly 
across the long wet grass to meet him. 

He sprang forward and caught her joyfully in his 
arms. 

“ My darling, my dearest ! ” he cried, kissing the 
veiled face that was bent a little away from him. 
“ How glad I am to be with you once more ! How 
long the days have been without you ! Are you not 
glad that I am back again, my own ? ” 

She murmured an inarticulate assent, ^^othing 
further could be expected of a young woman under the 
circumstances. For the first few minutes rapturous 
words of love and passionate kisses, answered by vague 
murmurs and dumb caresses, was all that took place 
between them ; then suddenly, in hot, eager words, 
Florian began to plead for her consent to go up to town 
with him. He urged her by her love and her faith in 
him ; he hinted at family complications and unexplain- 
able difficulties, which could alone be smoothed away 


2i8 


A Woman's No. 


by a marriage of this kind ; and he implored her in 
every strain and in every form of language to yield to 
his entreaties. For some time he talked alone, eagerly 
and breathlessly; then suddenly he ceased to speak, 
and what was his intense surprise when, instead of the 
opposition and the high moral objections he had ex- 
pected — ^instead of the calm superiority of her argu- 
ments, and the possible indignation which he had an- 
ticipated — the woman whom he held to his heart put 
up her face to his and whispered, — 

“Yes, I am coming with you. I have brought my 
things — all ready to go to-night ! ” 

Now such is the contrariety of human nature that 
Lord Mannering was positively taken aback by this 
readiness to fall in with his views. For two or three 
moments, indeed, he experienced a shock of surprise 
that was not altogether of a pleasurable nature. This 
easy and willing consent was so utterly different from 
what he had expected, and so unlike the character 
which had seemed to him to belong to his Hester, that 
there was actually a feeling of revulsion in his mind. 
It was taking him so literally at his word — to go this 
very night, and to come all ready prepared ! There 
was a want almost of modesty about it which offended 
his taste. 

“ It must be to-night or never ! ” she said, half con- 
scious, perhaps, of the feeling in his mind, “ for I think 
I am watched.” 

She spoke in a low whisper. 

“ Ah ! ” he said, “ that horrid woman, Gertrude Tracy, 
probably — she is quite capable of playing the spy! 
Come, then, darling, let us go.” 


219 


An Elopement. 

He, of course, had not been at all prepared for an 
immediate flight, but when a lady makes the advances 
it is not for a true lover to draw back. Besides, he 
had rooms in town, and he thought he could make out 
some plan for her night’s lodging as they went along ; 
so he gave her his arm, and they started at a brisk 
walk across the flelds towards the railway station, and 
not a suspicion of the truth entered for one moment 
into his mind. 


CHAPTER XXVI. 


NEWS IN EATON SQUARE. 

Hester was in London at her sister’s house in Ken- 
sington. It was the first time she had ever stayed 
with her, and she felt it very strange to be there as a 
visitor, and almost, indeed, as a stranger. She had 
seen very little of Mrs. Wright, and had not much in 
common with her; and as to her brother-in-law, he 
was almost unknown to her. She was glad, of course, 
to see the children and to make friends with them ; 
but there were so many of them, and they were all 
so nearly of a size, that she felt hopelessly confused 
as to their names, and could not for the life of her tell 
which from which. As to the little people themselves, 
they clustered about her knees with wide-open eyes 
and mouths, staring at her after the fixed and unblush- 
ing manner of small children generally, and could in 
no way be induced either to claim kindred with her or 
to enter into any conversation. 

But, of course, the main object of her visit was Dick, 
and with Dick she was unfeignedly glad to be. He 
had just secured bachelor quarters for himself nearer 
to his work and meditated moving into them the fol- 
lowing week. Hester was of the greatest use to him 
in arranging his rooms, and in helping him to make 
sundry purchases which were essential to his comfort. 

220 


News in Eaton Square. 221 

The brother and sister walked about London, talking 
incessantly, and were thoroughly happy together. Dick 
had to tell Hester all about Ida — her illness and his 
own reviving hopes concerning her — for Dick was full 
of hope. 

“ Her father is on my side now. I have opened his 
eyes to the truth — you will see that he will not allow 
the matter to drop — and when the poor darling finds 
that he takes her side, she will have the courage to 
make a stand and to resist her mother. Her spirit had 
been quite broken, poor child, and she was too weak 
bodily to be able to be brave.” 

It will be seen that Dick had now completely for- 
given the timidity and the vacillation upon which he 
had been so severe at the time. 

It was Hester’s advice to him to remain perfectly 
inactive for the present, and to await the march of 
events. Nothing certainly could be done until Ida be- 
came stronger, for her father refused to risk excite- 
ment by mentioning any agitating subject to her until 
she should be well enough to bear it. Every morning 
Dick, by Mr. Greythorne’s special permission, called at 
Eaton Square for news of the invalid. He came at the 
same hour, and was shown straight into Mr. Grey- 
thorne’s study ; and Lady Cressida, who had not yet 
left her room, was totally unaware of these daily visits. 
Mr. Greythorne had never yet dared to divulge to 
his wife his secret partisanship with “that young 
Forrester.” 

He was putting off that evil moment until such time 
as he should learn the whole truth from his daughter’s 
own lips. Then^ as he daily took care to inform Dick, 


222 


A Woman's No. 


should Ida prefer to keep her engagement to Lord 
Mannering, nothing farther could be done in the matter, 
and he, Dick, must be content to make his bow and 
take his departure. Dick was quite ready to agree to 
this. 

Mr. Grey thorne could not help owning to himself that 
he liked the young man, personally, very much — he 
had far more in common with him, indeed, than the 
noble son-in-law which his wife had found for him ; 
and should Ida declare herself in favor of young For- 
rester, Mr. Greythorne was well determined that she 
should have him. There would be a row, of course ; 
but meanwhile there was no occasion to bring on the 
row before its time, and to cause the connubial vials of 
wrath to be outpoured on his head, when possibly 
there might be no occasion at all for any such out- 
pouring. 

So he held his tongue, and received Dick Forrester 
every morning in his study for five minutes, reported 
Ida’s progress to him, and preached to him daily the 
same text, namely, that he must be patient. 

On the third morning of Hester’s visit to Mrs. Wright 
— the morning, indeed, of the day on which she was to 
go back to the Grange, to which she intended to return 
by an afternoon train — Dick was, as usual, in Mr. 
Greythorne’s study, receiving from that gentleman an 
account of Ida’s health. Suddenly there was a com- 
motion outside in the hall. The study windows opened 
into the back yard, so neither gentlemen had witnessed 
the violent dashing up of a hansom to the front door ; 
but they were conscious that somebody had come into 
the house and was talking very loudly in the hall. 


News in Eaton Square. 223 

“ Mr. Greythorne is particularly engaged just now, 
sir,” said the butler’s voice, respectfully. 

“ What do I care, you fool, whether he is engaged 
or not ! I tell you if he is in his bed I must see him, 
and that instantly ! I come upon business of the 
utmost importance. Go and tell him so at once ! ” 

“ Great Heavens ! it is Lord Wilmerton ! ” exclaimed 
Mr. Greythorne, recognizing the voice. He flung open 
the study door, and there hobbled in a very angry old 
gentleman with a gouty foot, supporting himself upon 
two crutch-sticks. 

“ My dear lord, who would have thought of seeing 
you at this hour in the morning ? Pray come in ! ” 
began Mr. Greythorne, with polite cordiality. 

But the earl was far too angry and too excited for 
civility. 

“ Don’t waste time, sir, with making pretty speeches 
to me I I am sorry to say I have come to you with very 
bad news, and your ass of a butler has kept me for 
nearly five minutes at the door before he would let 
me in ! A very terrible thing has happened, Mr. Grey- 
thorne ! ” 

Lord Wilmerton was so much absorbed in his news, 
and so excited by his encounter with the butler, that 
he did not even perceive that a stranger was present. 

Dick would have left the room, but Mr. Greythorne 
made him a sign to stay, and he remained standing in 
a corner, awaiting what was to come. 

“ I am sure I am very sorry. Lord Wilmerton, that 
my man should have been guilty of any incivility to 
you. If you had given your name — ” 

« What does it signify ? ” cried the old man, irascibly. 


224 


A Woman^s No. 


‘‘ Pray don’t waste time on civilities, when I’ve got a 
business like this to deal with ! I have a very shock- 
ing thing to tell you, Mr. Greythorne ! ” 

Mr. Greythorne murmured a few words indicative 
of regret and condolence, but he did not feel profoundly 
interested in Lord Wilmerton’s news. It did not strike 
him that anything he could say would be personally 
very exciting to himself. 

The old man went on, striking his crutch-stick 
angrily on the carpet as he spoke. 

‘‘ That scoundrel of a grandson of mine has run 
away with a low, underbred, double-faced minx of a 
girl, who lives at my park gates, and who has been 
setting her cap at him for the last ten years, just as 
her mother set hers at me five years before that ! ” 

Mr. Greythorne literally jumped in his chair with 
astonishment, whilst Dick uttered an exclamation of 
surprise in his corner. 

“ Impossible, Lord Wilmerton ! ” cried Mr. Grey- 
thorne, quite thunderstruck. 

That any man should have offered such an insult to 
his child was certainly a great shock to him. 

‘‘ It’s possible enough — young villain ! Look at the 
letter I got at seven o’clock this morning from the 
wretched woman herself. I got up instantly, and 
came off by the first train. But the deed must have 
been done yesterday, and it is too late to save him 
from destruction ; and then I felt, Mr. Greythorne, that 
it was only due to you and to your daughter that 
I should come to you instantly, and acquaint you 
with the facts — with, I may say truly, the disgraceful 
facts.” 


News in Eaton Square. 225 

Mr. Greythorne was reading the note, which the 
earl had handed to him. It ran as follows : — 

“ My Lord, — By the time you get this letter I shall 
have been married for twelve hours to Lord Manner- 
ing. You have scorned and despised me all my life, 
just as you scorned and despised my mother. You 
once came between me and your grandson, whom I 
loved, and you spoiled my life for me. I have waited 
many years, and at last I have it in my power to pay 
you back for the cruelty and the injustice you dealt to 
me. May this be a lesson to you never to make an 
enemy of a clever woman who has the will and the 
power to be revenged. 

“ Gertrude Tracy.” 

‘‘ Dear me — dear me ! ” said Mr. Greythorne, rubbing 
his bald head nervously, as was his wont in moments 
of perplexity. “ This is a very bad business, my lord ! 
I suppose they are married fast enough by now ? ” 

‘‘Believe me, Mr. Greythorne,” said the earl, with 
some feeling, “ I am deeply sorry for the insult that 
my family has thus unintentionally offered to yours.” 

“I am sure you are. Lord Wilmerton,” said Mr. 
Grdythorne, holding out his hand. 

“ It will, I fear, be a great blow to Lady Cressida and 
to Miss Greythorne.” 

“ It will be a great blow to Lady Cressida,” assented 
Mr. Greythorne, gravely, leaving out, perhaps inten- 
tionally, his daughter’s name. 

“ I am sincerely sorry for the trouble I am bringing 
upon your family.” 

“Pray do not think of that, my lord! Your own 

IS 


226 


A Woman's No. 


trouble, and the disappointment you must naturally 
feel in your grandson command my deepest sym- 
pathy.” 

‘‘ I think this distressing event should be communi- 
cated to your daughter as soon as possible,” said the 
earl. 

‘‘ I think so too,” said Mr. Greythorne. “ Can I do 
nothing to help you, Lord Wilmerton?” 

‘^Nothing, thank you. I shall drive straight to my 
solicitor, and set him to work to trace this unhappy 
young man, and to find out where he has gone to with 
this miserable woman ; and then you may be quite sure 
that I shall lose no time in giving him directions to 
prepare a new will.” 

Lord Wilmerton rose to depart, groaning consider- 
ably as he deposited his foot on to the ground. 

“ I am afraid your foot is very painful,” said Mr. 
Greythorne, going to his visitor’s assistance. 

“ It is, sir, very painful ; but that is nothing to the 
pain at my heart, Mr. Greythorne, absolutely nothing ! ” 
and there was a quiver in the old man’s voice. He 
looked ill too, and his face was pallid and drawn now 
that the excitement of his anger had abated. 

Pray have a glass of sherry and something to eat 
before you go,” said Mr. Greythorne, looking at him 
with concern ; ring the bell, Dick.” 

‘‘ ISj'othing, thank you — not a thing — I couldn’t swal- 
low a mouthful — many thanks all the same,” and 
with some difficulty the old man hobbled out into 
the hall and was helped into his hansom and driven 
off. 

‘‘It will kill him,” said Mr. Greythorne, as he 


News in Eaton Square. 227 

watched him depart; ‘‘you mark my words: the 
shock will kill him ; for all his anger, the poor old boy 
is wrapped up in his grandson.” 

“ I should like to catch Lord Mannering, and give him 
a good horsewhipping ! ” cried Dick, savagely. 

Mr. Greythorne laughed softly. 

“ I don’t think you need do that, Dick ; it strikes me 
that Lord Mannering has done you a very good turn 
indeed.” 

“ Yes ; that is true, sir,” said Dick, smiling in his 
turn. “ Who is the woman he has bolted with ? ” . 

“ I really did not notice the name ; the note was 
vulgar and impertinent in its tone, but I only just 
skimmed it through. ]^ow, I pray Heaven that you 
are right, Dick, and that my girl does not break her 
heart over this false lover ! ” 

“ I don’t think you will find that Ida will shed many 
tears over him,” said Dick, gleefully. “All the same, 
he deserves a horsewhipping.” 

“ But not from you, Dick, not from you ! ” 

“ No, perhaps not, sir,” and then they both laughed. 

There was no doubt at all about it that both Mr. 
Greythorne and his young guest, now that the first 
shock of surprise and indignation was over, were in the 
most exuberantly good spirits over Lord Mannering’s 
elopement. 

Dick had never known Mr. Greythorne so hilarious. 

“ Did you ring the bell, Dick, for the sherry ? ” 

“ No, sir ; Lord Wilmerton stopped me.” 

“ Then suppose you do so now.” 

“ Indeed, I ought to be going to my work.” 

“ Fiddlesticks ! leave your work alone for to-day ; 


228 


A Woman's No. 


ring the bell. A bottle of the old brown sherry, Gibbs, 
and be quick about it. Now, my boy, I am going to 
drink your health and good luck to you ; and I may 
tell you that this morning’s business has taught me 
that an honest man, who loves my girl heartily and 
truly, is a better match for her than a viscount with 
an earl’s coronet before him, who can throw over the 
sweetest and best girl in England for a vulgar brute of 
a woman who could write such a letter as the one I 
just read.” 

A quarter of an hour later. Lady Cressida, coming 
downstairs, heard voices in her husband’s study. She 
opened the door, and to her amazement and consterna- 
tion beheld the best brown sherry on the table, and Mr. 
Greythorne and Dick Forrester on either side of it, 
discussing its rapidly-diminishing contents. 

Both gentlemen jumped up somewhat confusedly at 
her entrance, and, truth to say, they both of them felt 
uncommonly guilty ; a bottle of brown sherry at eleven 
o’clock in the morning certainly required some adequate 
excuse and explanation. 

“J/r. Forrester ! exclaimed Lady Cressida, turn- 
ing to him with an expression of infinite disgust and 
displeasure ; “ I am really extremely surprised to see 
that you have ventured to enter this house again ! ” 

“Dick is here by my desire, my lady,” said Mr. 
Greythorne, stoutly ; “ and I hope he will very often be 
here again.” 

“Upon my word, you seem to be making very merry 
this morning, Mr. Greythorne ! ” replied Lady Cres- 
sida, scornfully. 

“.My dear, when you hear what has happened, al- 


News in Eaton Square. 229 

though, indeed, I am afraid you will be very much 
distressed at first — ” 

Is that why you are drinking sherry ? ” inquired 
her ladyship, with polite disdain. 

“ I think you had better go, Dick,” said Mr. Grey- 
thorne, who foresaw a row. 

“ Certainly Mr. Forrester had better go,” assented 
Lady Cressida. 

And Dick made his escape as speedily as possible. 

“And now, Tom,” said Lady Cressida, turning to 
her husband, as the door closed upon him, “ now that 
young man — whom I am surprised at your encour* 
aging here — is gone, pray let me know what it is all 
about ? ” 

“My dear,” said Mr. Greythorne, clearing his throat, 
and feeling that whatever the storm might be, the facts 
of the case were incontrovertible. “ My dear — a very 
serious thing has happened — Lord Wilmertonhas been 
here to tell me that Lord Mannering has eloped with 
somebody else.” 

And then Lady Cressida went into hysterics. 


CHAPTER XXVII. 

THE bride’s toothache. 


It is time to return to the fortunes of the fugitives. 
On their way between the Grange Orchard and the 
station, whilst clinging closely to her companion’s 
arm, Gertrude Tracy said, still in the same whispered 
tones in which she had spoken before, — 

I cannot face the lights of the station — I might be 
recognized ; and I must not go in the same carriage 
with you. I will wait outside until you bring me my 
ticket, and then you must go on and get into the train 
first, and I will get into another carriage.” 

This extraordinary caution did strike Lord Manner- 
ing as something peculiar in a woman who had been 
so ready to run away with him. 

‘‘ That does not seem like my brave Hester ! ” he 
said, pressing her arm. ‘‘ Are you frightened, my 
darling? You seem hardly able to speak.” 

“Yes; I am terribly frightened!” she murmured. 

“ Ah ! it is that detestable woman, Gertrude Tracy, 
who has frightened you, I know ! ” 

Gertrude made a mental registration of this second 
unfiattering mention of her name, and swore to repay 
him the observation by-and by — with interest. 

“ Pray do as I ask you ! ” was all, however, that she 
said at present, returning the slight pressure upon her 
arm. 


230 


The Bride's Toothache. 


231 


He could not do otherwise. Having consented to 
please him in the main thing, it was the least he could 
do to yield to her in the smaller details of the even- 
ing’s adventure. 

He left her standing in the shadow of the station 
wall whilst he went inside and got the tickets ; then, 
when the train came up, he went on in front of her, 
opened the door of a first-class carriage for her, and 
jumped himself into the adjoining compartment. 

In this manner, thanks to her thick veil and Hester’s 
cloak, and to the hurry in which their entrance into 
the train was carried out. Lord Mannering had not 
once had the opportunity of looking at his companion’s 
face. All he had seen of her was the knot of dark 
hair beneath her hat as the station lights gleamed for 
one instant upon it ; and Gertrude’s hair was nearly 
as dark as Hester’s. 

It was Miss Tracy’s object that Lord Mannering 
should remain in ignorance of her identity until the 
following day ; and by a great piece of good luck she 
was enabled to carry out this object successfully. 

When they reached London, and Lord Mannering 
came to her carriage to help her out, she whispered to 
him that an old lady in the corner of her carriage, who 
had been fast asleep the whole way, was an acquaint- 
ance of Mrs. Tracy’s, that she had been looking at her 
suspiciously, and, she felt sure, must have recognized 
her. 

“Don’t let her think you belong to me,” she said. 
“ I will run out quickly and jump into a four-wheeled 
cab, and you can follow me.” 

And she held up her hand to her face to shade it 


232 


A Woman's No. 


from the old lady’s observation — shading it also, at the 
same time, completely from him. 

It is needless to say that the old lady in question 
was a perfect stranger to her, and had never taken the 
slightest notice of her, or even seemed aware of her 
presence. 

By the time Florian joined her in the cab, Gertrude 
had extracted a woolen wrap from her bag, and had 
tied it over her head and round her face securely 
under her chin. 

‘‘ My tooth aches so horribly ! ” she said in a choked 
voice in explanation. “ Pray do not speak to me.” 

Now a toothache is not a romantic ailment, nor is it 
exactly a poetical or beautifying accompaniment to a 
couple of runaway lovers. Nevertheless, it is a sub- 
stantial evil that commands a certain amount of sym- 
pathy, and must be treated with due respect and with 
serious consideration. 

Lord Mannering thought it annoying, certainly, that 
his very first moments of bliss with his beloved should 
be marred by her having a toothache. Nevertheless, 
it was impossible to pooh-pooh such a painful com- 
plaint ! He could only exhaust himself in tender ex- 
pressions of regret and sorrow, and pillow her head 
upon his shoulder, which was effected in such a fash- 
ion that it was impossible for him to see more than the 
top of her hat and the white muffler, which scrubbed 
itself with an unpleasant persistency against his face. 

“ What can have given you such a horrible thing as 
toothache ? ” he exclaimed. 

‘‘Damp,” ejaculated the lady, between her closed 
teeth. 


The Bride's Toothache. 


233 


It was not romantic, certainly ; but then it must 
be very painful, and he was unfeignedly sorry for 
her. 

‘‘ I am taking you to a very nice, quiet family hotel 
in a back street, kept by a most respectable woman, 
whom I have known for many years,” he explained to 
her by the way ; “ and to-morrow morning I will come 
there for you, and fetch you away to the nearest 
church. I shall not be able to come very early, because 
I have a great many things to arrange ” — he had, in 
fact, the license to procure and the clergyman to 
secure — ‘^but I will be with you by eleven, if pos- 
sible.” 

When the cab stopped at the door of this hotel, 
Gertrude whispered — 

“ Don’t come out with me ; I should die of shame ! ” 

And Lord Mannering, who had taken the precaution 
of telegraphing to the proprietors of the hotel from 
Wilmerton Station to secure a bedroom, agreed to her 
request, the more readily because he did not wish to 
reveal his rank to Hester until the next day ; and he 
knew that the good lady who had known him for 
years would assuredly call him ‘‘ my lord ” half a dozen 
times within the first five minutes. 

The lovers, therefore, if such they can be called — 
parted within the shadow of the cab ; the lady and her 
bag making a rapid dash into the hotel, whilst the 
gentleman continued his way in the same vehicle to 
his own rooms in Jermyn Street. 

So far all had gone well and prospered with Ger- 
trude Tracy’s plans. Who can say with what relief, 
in the solitude of her bedroom that night, she flung 


234 


A Woman's No. 


aside her muffling wraps, and laughed aloud over her 
own cleverness in getting up that convenient tooth- 
ache ! 

“ Mannering was always a fool,” she said to herself. 
“ Fancy his. being taken in so easily ! He is as green 
as grass and as innocent as a baby ; he never had a 
suspicion from beginning to end. Now let me see 
Avhat is to be done next. If I can get him thoroughly 
to compromise me, his honor will be involved, and 
he will have to make me his wife even if he leaves 
me at the church door. I must think over the next 
step.” 

She sat down in front of the dressing-table, and 
leaning her chin upon her hands, remained wrapped 
in thought, looking fixedly all the while at her own 
image in the glass. 

“ Let me see — the letter will not reach Lord Wil- 
merton till the morning after next ; the alarm will not 
be given to-morrow. It is running it rather close, 
certainly — the marriage could hardly be before half- 
past ten ; but still I think it would be time enough, 
and it will be making assurance doubly sure. After 
ty^o nights in town, he could hardly have the face to 
throw me over. Yes, I think I will risk it.” 

Great was Lord Mannering’s dismay and disgust 
upon his arrival, in hot haste, at a quarter-past eleven 
the following morning, after having made untold efforts 
to get a license, to interview the clergyman, to hunt 
up an old schoolfellow to come and give his bride away, 
and to make every arrangement to carry out his mar- 
riage that morning — great, therefore, was his conse- 
quent disgust when Mrs. Jones, the landlady, came 


The Bride's Toothache. 


^35 

down into the coifee-room, and informed him that the 
lady was so bad with her tooth that she could not pos- 
sibly leave her bed. 

“ Poor dear, she won’t even see me, my lord,” said 
good Mrs. Jones, in great tribulation; “and Mary — 
that’s the chamber-maid — ^just took her in a cup of tea, 
and she was a-hiding her head under the bedclothes, 
and a-groaning and a-moaning with the pain ever so ! 
I went to the door just now, and it was locked, and she 
wouldn’t let me in ; and she called out to me to tell 
you she was that sorry she didn’t know what to do, 
but her face was swollen up like a water-melon — that 
were her very expression — ‘ like a water-melon, Mary,’ 
says she ; and she couldn’t come down or show her- 
self in any way, she was such a figure, and so mad 
with the pain, which I knows what it is, my lord, hav- 
ing had it myself mortal bad — if you will excuse me 
for mentioning it — and the poor young lady have sent 
for laudanum, and creosote, and Bunter’s Nervine, and 
and a sight more things, from the chemist, and she has 
got a hot flannel to her face, and we was to give you 
her love, my lord, and say, if you wouldn’t mind wait- 
ing till to-morrow — she knows as it will go off by then, 
these attacks always do — and she’ll be ready by ten 
o’clock to-morrow morning for you.” 

What was a man to do ! Lord Mannering felt half 
wild with disappointment and vexation to have the 
cup of happiness so near to his lips and yet to be 
unable to taste of it — to have everything settled, and 
then to have everything deferred — all this was more 
almost than mortal man could stand with patience and 
equanimity ! But, then, how was a man to drag a poor 


A Woman’s No. 


236 

woman in agonies of pain out of her bed to be married ; 
and what sort of figure would he make in church by 
the side of a bride whose face — to use her own words 
— was distended like a water-melon ! 

Disappointed and angry, and maddened as he felt, 
there was clearly no other course left to him than to 
submit to what was plainly inevitable. There was, 
moreover, a great deal for him to do. He had to go to 
the clergyman’s house to inform him of the alteration 
of the day and to fix the ceremony for half-past ten the 
following morning. Then he had to go to the church 
and hunt out the clerk upon the same errand. The 
clerk grinned, and evidently considered him a curiously- 
changeable man ; and, indeed, he felt himself to be in 
an exceedingly foolish position. Then he had to look 
up his friend and explain at some length the whole 
business to him. 

The friend simply laughed outright in his face. 

“ My dear fellow, I’d have had her out — toothache 
or no toothache ! ” 

“ But she says her face is like a water-melon ! ” said 
Lord JMannering, irritably, and then the friend laughed 
again, and the laughter was eminently unpleasant to 
him. 

All this made him thoroughly out of temper. He 
went back to the family hotel in a very bad humor 
indeed. If the truth were confessed, he began to feel 
thoroughly sick of the whole business, and to wish he 
had never been so foolish as to run away with Hester 
Forrester. There was no getting out of it now, of 
course; but still he wished he had let things take their 
course. 


The Bride's Toothache. 


237 


It is an odd thing,” he said to himself, as he looked 
out dismally over the gloomy wire-blind of the coffee- 
room window into the sloppy street without — ‘‘ it is 
an odd thing, that ever since last night, when I first 
met her in the orchard, she has seemed quite an altered 
woman. She is totally different from what I had 
imagined her to be. Of course I love her dearly ; but 
still the whole charm of the girl seems to be gone. I 
wonder whether it is my fault, and if it is really true 
than I can never be constant to one woman for three 
months together ! I did think, too, that Hester had 
fixed my heart forever, and now I feel half tired of 
her already ! ” 

And then he fell to reproaching himself vehemently 
for his disloyal thoughts towards her. With a vigor- 
ous effort he recalled all their past acquaintance ; he 
thought over his first meeting with her by the Lennan 
Water, and of all his subsequent interviews with her ; 
he brought back his mind forcibly to her beauty and 
her sweetness, and to the indescribable charms which 
her presence had always exercised over him, and then he 
told himself that she was the dearest and the best of 
women, and that he was the luckiest fellow upon 
earth. After that he came back to his former reflec- 
tion, and caught himself saying, over and over 
again, — 

“ She seems altogether changed ; her whole manner 
is different; her very voice seems altered — and that 
interminable whispering worries me to death.” 

He did not leave the hotel all day ; he was afraid to 
walk about the streets by daylight, lest Mr. Grey thorne 
should meet him and ask him to Eaton Square — in 


A Woman's No. 


538 

which case the last dilemma would be worse than the 
first; so he stayed indoors, sending up frequent in- 
quiries to his lady-love’s room, and receiving thence, as 
the day wore on, more hopeful reports. 

“The pain was less — the swelling was abating,” 
said Mrs. Jones. 

Mrs. Jones, of course, guessed the condition of things, 
and was full of sly winks and hints, and also of polite 
sympathy and condolence for “ my lord’s disappoint- 
ment.” 

“The poor dear young lady will be all right to- 
morrow, my lord,” she said reassuringly, as she brought 
in the chop for her aristocratic customer’s solitary 
dinner with her own hands ; “ and her beauty, pretty 
dear, won’t be a bit spiled for her wedding ! ” 

After “ my lord ” had finished his dinner, and re- 
ceived a final message that the lady would be quite 
ready for him at ten o’clock on the morrow, he took 
his departure, and went back to his own rooms in 
Jermyn Street. 

By a quarter to ten on the following morning he 
was at the family hotel Mrs. Jones ushered him into 
her own private sitting-room in a perfect fiutter of ex- 
citement. 

“ She is quite well this morning — all the pain and 
swelling gone — and she has sent out for a new mantle 
and a white bonnet ; and oh, lor’ ! she do look nice ! 
You wait in here, my lord, and I’ll go and tell her you 
are ready for her.” 

Mrs. Jones went away, and there was about five 
minutes’ delay. Florian felt quite happy again, and 
eagerly waited her arrival. At last everything, he 


The Bride's Toothache. 239 

thought, was settled, and Hester would be his own 
within an hour. 

A rustle of a dress along the passage — the door 
opened behind him — he sprang from his chair with 
outstretched hands and a beaming face, and en- 
countered — Gertrude Tracy 1 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 

GERTRUDE TRACY’s CARDS. 


For the first few moments Lord Mannering was so 
thoroughly amazed by the unexpected appearance of 
Gertrude Tracy that he did not in the least understand 
what was the real state of the case. His only per- 
plexity was how on earth she had come there ; and he 
could only imagine that she must have discovered 
Hester’s fiight with him and have tracked her to the 
hotel. 

“ Good Heavens ! Gertrude Tracy ! ” he cried. 
“ How in the world did you come here ? ” 

“Did not you yourself bring me, Lord Mannering ? ” 
said Miss Tracy, smiling 

But it was not a pleasant smile. 

“I don’t understand you. What do you mean? 
Have you seen Hester, then ? ” 

“ Hester ! Xo ; I have not seen her, nor do I want to 
see her ! Oh, Lord Mannering, is it possible that you 
have not guessed the truth ? ” 

“ The truth ! What truth ? ” he gasped, backing 
away involuntarily from her as she advanced a few 
paces nearer to him. 

A dark scowl flashed for one instant across her 
features as she marked the unflattering action ; but, 
with a strong effort of control, she forced herself to 
smile at him sweetly and tenderly, 

24P 


241 


Gertrude Tracy's Cards. 

“ Did you not guess that it was I, your old love 
— your Gertrude of long-past years of happiness, 
Florian — whom you took away with you from the 
Grange, and whom you brought here with you? Did 
your heart not tell you, when you pressed me so closely 
to you, who it was whom you held in your arms ? ” 

“ Good God ! ” he murmured in a choked voice. 

‘‘ Oh, Florian,” she cried, still softly and lovingly, 
‘‘ do not turn away from me like that. Is the love of 
years to go for nothing ? the devotion of a lifetime to 
be flung away? Believe me, no other woman on 
earth will ever love you so constantly and truly, or 
make you so good a wife ; and now that our lot is ir- 
revocably cast together — ” 

What f ” 

He had listened silently until now, feeling too utterly 
bewildered and upset by the revelation of her presence 
to be able to answer her ; but her last words aroused 
him fully to anger and indignation. 

What ? ” he thundered forth again furiously, and 
then burst into a shout of derisive laughter. 

Gertrude listened to him in silence. She turned 
very pale, and the whole expression of her face altered. 
The affectation of love and devotion, which had been 
the first card in her hand, had not answered — it was 
time to play another. She had plenty more in readi- 
ness. 

“Why do you laugh?” she said quietly. “Does 
anything amuse you ? ” 

“Yes; the idea that you fancy you can become my 
wife ! ” he answered derisively. 

“ There is no fancying about it,” she answered mean- 

i6 


242 


A Woman’s No. 


ingly. You have so far compromised yourself and me, 
that there is nothing else left for you to do. You have 
brought me here alone in the face of the people of this 
hotel ; I have stayed for two nights in London under 
your protection ; you have bought a license, and en- 
gaged a clergyman to perform the ceremony ; there is 
not a person in this house, from the landlady down to 
the chambermaid, who does not know that you intend 
to marry me within an hour ; and the very carriage 
you have engaged to take me to the church is now at 
the door. It is impossible^ if you are a gentleman and 
a man of honor, that you can fail in keeping the en- 
gagement you have made ! If you were to desert me 
now, you would be a blackguard, for you would ruin 
me forever! In the sight of all honest and decent 
women my character and my reputation would be 
destroyed ! ” 

For a moment he was almost staggered by her argu- 
ments. It was true, as she said, that he had brought her 
to the hotel, and kept her there for two days at his ex- 
pense ; and it was true that no one had doubted that he 
intended to marry her. Was he indeed bound to fulfil 
his intention ? But, after one instant of hesitation, his 
courage and his common sense returned to him ; he told 
himself, indignantly, that a free man was not to be 
tricked into marrying a designing woman by a cunning- 
ly-planned deception of this kind ; nor could the vows 
which he had made to one woman be taken to hold good 
when spoken to another by mistake. 

And yet there was something so bold and so ingen- 
ious, and at the same time so clever, about the whole 
plot of this unscrupulous woman to trick him into 


H3 


Gertrude Tracy^s Cards. 

marrying her against his own will, that he could not 
help being struck with a certain amount of admiration 
for her. 

Your plans are cleverly laid, Miss Tracy,” he ex- 
claimed, but, unfortunately, I am not quite such a 
weak fool as you seem to suppose ; and I have yet to 
learn that in a free country a man can be tricked into 
marrying against his will, even when the trick is sup- 
plemented by violent words and an imputation against 
his honor. Pray understand, once for all, that I have 
not the slightest intention of making you my wife.” 

Then Gertrude turned over that card, and took up 
another. 

She sank down upon a sofa, and buried her face in 
the cushions, and (apparently) burst into a flood of 
tears. 

“ Alas ! — alas ! what is to become of me ? ” she sobbed, 
in a voice choked by her emotion ; “ wretched, unfor- 
tunate girl that lam! I have sacriflced everything to 
my love ; and now I am utterly undone ! Oh ! what is 
to become of me ? ” 

“ Pray don’t cry like that ! ” said Lord Mannering, 
nervously ; like all soft-hearted men, he could not bear 
to see a woman cry — and tears would melt him where 
threats would only turn him into stone. “ There is no 
occasion for you to cry, it is very simple what will be- 
come of you. I shall take you back to your mother’s 
house by the next train.” 

“ She will not receive me ! ” almost shrieked Miss 
Tracy ; my reputation is gone ! ” 

Oh, bother your reputation ! ” cried his lordship, 
impatiently, and certainly somewhat irreverently, con- 


244 


A Woman's No. 


sidering that he was speaking of that crown to a 
woman’s glory that is supposed to be of more value to 
her than her life ; ‘‘ who do you suppose is to know 
anything about your reputation if you don’t go blurt- 
ing out the whole story yourself ? For goodness’ 
sake, my dear woman, stop crying, and look at things 
reasonably ! ” 

“ And how am I to look at things reasonably, when 
my whole life is ruined by you ? when my own mother 
— the soul of purity, and goodness, and religion — ” 

‘‘ Ahem ! ” interrupted Lord Mannering, doubtfully ; 
but Gertrude went on as if she hadn’t heard him. 

‘^When she demands an account of these two 
nights of absence, how shall I be able to give her one ? 
She will turn me out of doors — and think of my fate 
then — with my delicate health I shall be homeless and 
desolate — an outcast — with a ruined reputation — oh ! 
— oh ! ” and a tempest of sobs shook her from head to 
foot. 

Lord Mannering heaved a sigh of despair. 

I do wish you would leave your reputation out of 
the question,” he said, unconscious, probably, of the 
sarcasm he was uttering. It really seems to me to 
be a matter of very trifling importance.” 

Miss Tracy cast up her eyes and hands in virtuous 
despair. 

“ A matter of trifling importance ! ” she repeated 
brokenly ; “ he says my reputation is a matter of 
trifling importance ! Great Heavens ! that there 
should be so much cruelty in a man’s heart towards 
an unfortunate creature, whose existence he has 
blighted ! ” 


^45 


Gertrude Tracy's Cards. 

And again she sank back upon her sofa cushions, and 
resumed her weeping. Upon the whole, she thought 
the tears were the best line of action she could follow. 

Mannering paced up and down the room like a caged 
wild animal. He was very nearly at the end of his 
patience. The woman had played the most shameful 
trick upon him ; she had robbed him of his bride, and 
had nearly let him in for marrying herself ; and he 
knew that she had been actuated by no love of him- 
self, but simply and purely by ambition and by a 
desire to revenge herself for certainly rather 
heartless conduct which he had been guilty of 
towards her more than ten years ago. He saw through 
her maneuvers perfectly ; and he had a pretty shrewd 
guess that her mother must be either wholly or 
partially in her daughter’s confidence. 

And yet for all that he was in sore perplexity about 
her, for he could not imagine how he was to rid him- 
self of her. To take her back to her mother was easily 
said, but would perhaps be a difficult task to achieve. 
Meanwhile, every moment that he remained here alone 
with her was adding to the complications of the situa- 
tion. The carriage that he had hired was certainly, as 
she had said, waiting now before the door ; the people 
of the house were all agog to see the bride and bride- 
groom go forth. Of course they had guessed that it 
was a matter of a runaway match, even had not Lord 
Mannering himself made assurance doubly sure by 
asking the landlady, as an old friend, to come with 
them and be one of the witnesses of the ceremony. 
The good lady was standing even now in the entrance 
hall, arrayed in her silk dress and her best Sunday 


A Woman^s No. 


246 

bonnet ; and it was safely to be affirmed that she was 
not likely to omit to state frequently and emphatically 
to her admiring household that it was to the wedding 
of Viscount Mannering that she had been bidden. 
The thing would be talked about and become known — 
would probably appear in the morrow’s papers. So 
luscious a morsel of scandal was not likely to escape 
publicity ; there would be sensational paragraphs 
headed ‘‘ A runaway marriage in high life,” in big 
letters. Hester might — indeed, probably would — hear 
of it ; and then, great Heavens ! what would happen ? 

All this flashed quickly, but with a terrible distinct- 
ness, through Mannering’s brain. He felt as if he 
should go distracted. At any cost he must get her 
out of the house. When Miss Tracy repeated once 
more, in broken-hearted accents, that she was a wretch- 
ed creature, and that he had blighted her existence, he 
felt more brutally disposed towards her than he had 
ever done towards anything belonging to the female 
sex in his life before. 

“ I have not blighted your existence,” he cried, 
stopping short angrily before her. “ It is false, and 
you know it is. You have played a disgraceful, shame- 
ful, dishonorable trick upon me, and if you were a 
man, somebody would horsewhip you ; as it is, you 
will just put on your bonnet and come out of this 
house instantly, and I shall take you back to your 
mother, who is pretty well as bad as yourself ; and 
you may consider yourself lucky that I don’t bring an 
action against you both for conspiracy.” 

Then she saw that her chances were over and that the 
game was up. His last words had rather frightened 


247 


Gertrude Tracy's Cards. 

her, but for all that she was determined to fling off 
the mask now that her last hope was gone, and to give 
him back as good as he gave ; and she had one more 
card to play — that of revenge ! 

She stood up and began putting her bonnet on be- 
fore the glass — and for a weeping woman, who had 
not three minutes before appeared to be sobbing out 
her very soul, she certainly had become very dry-eyed 
all of a sudden. 

You talk of deception and conspiracy. Lord Man- 
nering, but I do not think you ought to say much about 
that yourself — you who have concealed your rank, and 
passed yourself off under a false name, in order to make 
love to a friendless girl who trusted and believed in 
you.” 

If you had not played the spy, and come out to 
listen in the orchard, you would not have known this,” 
cried Mannering, indignantly. 

‘‘ I beg your pardon,” she answered coldly, and went 
on tying her veil with slow and deliberate elaboration. 

Within a few days of her arrival in our house Miss 
Forrester, with a sweet ingenuity and candor — ” this 
was said with a sneer — “ began to talk of you as Mr, 
Florian ! I was instantly aware of the deception you 
had practised upon her, and as it was none of my 
business I held my tongue.” 

‘‘ You were right so far.” 

Yes,” she said, turning upon him suddenly, with 
a savageness which reminded him of the action of a 
wild animal about to spring. « Yes, but I should be 
right no longer were I to keep silence now. Believe 
me, my lord, I shall lose no time in revealing to Miss 


A Woman's No. 


248 

Forrester what is your name and rank, and also that 
you are engaged to be married to Miss Greythorne, and 
that the wedding is to take place very shortly ; and 
you may be sure that I shall not fail to warn her most 
solemnly and most emphatically against the advances 
of a man who, having no power to marry her, can 
only be actuated by the vilest and most iniquitous of 
intentions.” 

Gertrude ! ” cried Mannering, aghast. Surely 
you will not be guilty of so cruel and so uncalled for 
an action ! I entreat you, for the sake of our ancient 
friendship, to refrain from saying anything to Miss 
Forrester. Surely you must know that my intentions 
towards her are everything that is honorable. I am 
only anxious to break olf my engagement to Miss 
Greythorne in order to make Hester my wife.” 

‘‘ Ah ! so you say,” said Gertrude, turning round 
smilingly at him. Her revenge was sweet to her, and 
she thoroughly enjoyed it. But I don’t think, when 
she hears a full account of you from me, that she will 
believe much in your honorable intentions ! ” 

“ Gertrude, I implore you ! ” cried Florian, dis- 
tractedly. 

“You may marry me if you like, Lord Mannering,” 
said his tormentor, still smiling sweetly at him. 
“ That is, I am sorry to say, the only other alternative 
I can offer you. Come, since we must go, give me 
your arm, and let us take the carriage that is waiting 
to the station — or to the church, whichever you wish ; 
it is not yet too late.” 

They went out into the hall arm-in-arm, and Ger- 
trude, walking up to the radiant landlady, shook her 


249 


Gertrude Tracy^s Cards. 

by the hand, and said aloud to her, so that all the 
waiters and maids might hear, “ Good-by, Mrs. Jones. 
Many thanks for your kindness. We are going to be 
married, you see, but we find we shall not want you 
to come to the church ; ” and then they both got 
into the carriage, and were driven — not to the church — • 
but to Charing Cross. 


CHAPTER XXIX. 


AT CHARING CROSS. 

The mind of that venerable and respectable person- 
age, Mr. Gibbs, who held the important office of butler 
in Mr. Greythorne’s establishment, was certainly sorely 
exercised and bewildered upon that eventful morning. 

There had been, first, the arrival of the excited old 
gentleman who had almost forced his way into his 
master’s study, and whom Mr. Gibbs had eventually 
gathered to be an important personage ; there had been 
loud voices and many words in the study during his 
visit, as Mr. Gibbs, standing without in the passage, 
could testify ; then there had been that unwonted 
episode of the best brown sherry ordered up — not for 
the delectation of the aristocratic and excitable old 
gentleman, but for “that young Forrester gent,” as 
Mr. Gibbs in his heart irreverently termed the young 
man “ from The Cottage ” — an establishment he held 
in supreme contempt as owning neither carriage nor 
men-servants. 

That Mr. Grey thorne should order up the old brown 
sherry, and make merry over it with “ the likes of him,” 
was astonishing enough to the soul of Mr. Gibbs. But 
there were more wonderful things still to come. 

Some few minutes after young Mr. Forrester had de- 
parted from the house, there was suddenly heard the 
250 


251 


At Charing Cross. 

loud and repeated ringing of the study bell. Gibbs 
rushed to the rescue, and saw no less remarkable^ a 
sight than Lady Cressida stretched upon the sofa, face 
downwards, in a violent fit of hysterics, whilst his 
master stood over her in helpless perplexity, 

‘‘Send for Dawson — bring water and sal- volatile 
and eau-de-Cologne instantly ! ” ejaculated Mr. Grey- 
thorne, breathlessly. 

Gibbs retired hastily and summoned Dawson, the 
lady’s maid, to her ladyship’s assistance. But Gibbs 
by this time began to put two and two together, and 
the result of his cogitations was, that he was very sure 
that something most unusual and of a highly- disturb- 
ing nature must have happened in the family. The 
brown sherry was a fact worthy of notice ; but that 
Lady Cressida should be found in hysterics was some- 
thing so exceedingly remarkable that Gibbs began to 
have the gravest apprehensions. That Mr. Grey- 
thorne had suddenly become a pauper, and had for- 
tified himself with sherry before breaking the news to 
his wife, was the very least of his surmises. If this 
were the case the household would be broken up, and 
Mr. Gibbs himself thrown out of an uncommonly easy 
and comfortable situation; was not this enough to 
bring care and anxiety to the brow of a fat and well- 
fed family butler ? 

Whilst these depressing thoughts were disturbing 
the peaceful soul of the great Mr. Gibbs, poor Mr. 
Greythorne was endeavoring to restore his wife to 
self-control, and to a calm consideration of the inevi- 
table facts of the case. 

But Lady Cressida was too thoroughly upset by the, 


252 


A Woman's No. 


to her, terrible news, to be able to take anything calm- 
ly. She went out of one frenzy into another. 

First of all, a blind disbelief of the truth of the re- 
port possessed her ; she knew it was false — a got-up 
tale, invented to torment and make her miserable — to 
induce her to give up a match upon which her heart 
was set ; then suddenly she turned upon her unfortu- 
nate husband in a paroxysm of fury. It was all his 
doing — ^he had taken Ida’s part against her, and put 
Lord Mannering up to the simplest way of breaking 
off the engagement ; then again, tears and shrieks, and 
declarations of utter misery and laments over the fate 
of her poor darling, deserted daughter. 

In the end Mr. Greythorne was obliged to resign her 
to Dawson and the salts and sal- volatile. Lady Cres- 
sida consented at last to be taken upstairs to her own 
room, and was given over entirely to the care of her 
domestics. Her last words to her husband were spoken 
faintly and spasmodically, and were choked and broken 
by sobbing sighs. 

‘‘ Go — and break it — to Ida — I haven’t the courage — 
it — would — kill me ! ” So saying, she disappeared up 
the stairs greatly to her husband’s relief. 

Meanwhile Dick had gone back to his sister’s house 
in a state of excitement and exultation too great to be 
depicted. He felt utterly incapable of attending to 
business, and sent a telegram into the City to the effect 
that he was unable to appear at his office. He was 
duly bent upon imparting the great and wonderful 
news to Hester. 

The brother and sister had bidden farewell to each 
other in the morning, as Hester intended to return to 


253 


At Charing Cross. 

the Grange some time during the day ; and Dick would, 
in the natural course of events, have gone on to the 
City from his inquiries in Eaton Square, without again 
returning to Mrs. Wright’s house in Kensington. 

Great, therefore, was Hester’s surprise when she 
caught sight of her brother coming rapidly up the steps 
of the house within about an hour of his departure 
from it. 

She ran hastily fort^ard to meet him. 

“ Dick ! has anything happened ? What brings you 
back again so soon ? ” 

He caught hold of her hands, and kissed her im- 
petuously. 

“ Come into the dining-room, and I will tell you.” 

He drew her into the room. 

All the little Wrights between the ages of seven and 
eleven were studiously employed round the table in 
looking over their lesson books before the arrival of 
the daily governess. 

Bah ! not here ; it’s full of children ! ” he cried im- 
patiently ; ‘‘let us try Wright’s study.” 

He pushed open the door of the room on the opposite 
side of the hall, with the same lamentable results. Be- 
ing a wet morning, there was no going out for the little 
ones, and a second detachment of young Wrights, rang- 
ing between the ages of two and seven, was employed, 
under the care of the nursery maid, in making the an- 
imals go “ by two’s and two’s ” into the Koah’s ark 
placed in the middle of their father’s writing-table. 

Dick slammed to the door with an exclamation not 
quite admissible in ladies’ society. 

Wliat on earth is to be done in a house of this 


254 


A Woman's No. 


kind ? ” he cried impatiently. “ May Heaven defend 
me from all the horrors of a large family ! ” 

“Never mind,” said Hester, cheerfully, “let us sit on 
the stairs.” 

So upon the stairs they sat down hand in hand as 
they used to do when they were children, and Dick 
told his great news. Even here they were not quite 
undisturbed, for the loud howling of Mr. Wright’s 
youngest-born came down deafeningly and piercingly 
from the upper regions behind them. Nevertheless, 
Dick managed to tell his news. 

“ Lord Mannering has eloped with somebody ! ” 

“ With Ida ? ” 

“ Good Heavens ! no ; with somebody else. I don’t 
know who she is ; but that doesn’t signify — he has 
gone off with some girl or other from his own part of 
the country — and, oh ! Hester, Ida is free, and am not 
I the happiest man in London ? ” 

“ How very extraordinary ! What a brute this Lord 
Mannering must be ! ” 

Oh, if she had only guessed the truth ! 

“ Yes — of course he is a brute — but what does that 
signify ? He has deserted Ida, and she is free, and her 
father will give her to me.” 

“ Does Ida know ? ” 

“Not yet — her father was to tell her. She will be 
on the sofa for the first time this afternoon. I wonder 
when they will let me see her — to-morrow, perhaps,” 
and the lover’s eyes grew soft and dreamy at the mere 
hope of seeing her again. 

“ Will not the shock be very great for her — will it 
hurt her ? ” 


^55 


At Charing Cross. 

‘‘ Happiness never yet hurt anybody. It is my belief 
it will make her well and strong in a couple of days, 
merely to hear of it,” said Dick, joyfully. 

“ Then there is Lady Cressida to manage — ” 

‘^What can Lady Cressida do now? Her paragon 
has fled, and she will be unable to carry out her per- 
secution of my poor darling.” 

“ How odd it is that I never saw Lord Mannering 
all the time he was at Strathendale,” said Hester, 
musingly. ‘^You saw him — did you not, Dick?” 

‘‘Yes, once. I saw him riding out with her. I 
could have killed him — I hated him so. Now I can 
afford to forgive him.” 

“ Was he good-looking? ” 

“ Oh, dear, no,” said Dick, with supreme contempt ; 
“ a tall, thin man, who didn’t look good for much — 
narrow-chested and thin- faced.” 

It will be easily understood that this unflattering 
description did not call up to Hester’s mind the 
slightest resemblance of her own lover, whom, looking 
at through all the glamour of love, she considered to 
be a model of everything that was desirable and admir- 
able in manly beauty. 

“ I used to wish I had seen Ida’s Lord Mannering,” 
she said musingly ; “ but now I am glad that I never 
did ; he has behaved very badly indeed to her. How 
can he tell that he has not broken her heart ? ” 

“He is nothing more to her now — she never did 
care for him, and she always loved me, although you 
would not believe it.” 

“ I thought it unwise of you to allow yourself to 
think about a woman so far above you in worldly 


A Woman's No. 


256 

position, Dick,” answered Hester, gently ; and forgive 
me for saying, even now, that I hope you are not too 
sanguine in reckoning upon her willingness to marry 
you ; remember that you are a poor man.” 

But Dick would listen to no words of caution ; he 
stopped his sister’s more reasonable words by kissing 
her, and telling her that she knew nothing about either 
Ida or himself. 

“You have never had a lover, Hester, or you would 
know better,” he said laughingly. 

“ Have I not ? ” said Hester, incautiously, and then 
blushed furiously at her indiscretion. 

“ Have you ? ” cried Dick, opening his eyes very wide 
at her. “ Oh, Hester, how guilty you look, and how 
red you are — you certainly must have got some news 
to tell me in return for mine. Out with it at once, 
Hester — who is the lucky fellow ? ” 

“ Oh, Dick ! ” said Hester, confusedly. “ I oughtn’t 
to have said anything — indeed nothing is settled — it is 
a secret. I have promised to tell no one.” 

“ Still, there is a lover, Hester ? ” persisted Dick, 
smiling. 

Hester was too thoroughly truthful to deny it. 

“ It does seem hard not to be able to tell my own 
brother,” she said. 

“Why should there be any secret about it?” in- 
quired Dick, who, although imprudent concerning his 
own love affairs, could be wise enough about other 
people’s. “If a man is wooing a girl honestly and 
straightforwardly, there is no occasion to have any 
mystery in the matter. Are you sure that it is all 
right, Hester, dear ? ” 


At Charing Cross. 257 

« Why, of course it’s all right,” said Hester, feeling 
surprised at the question. 

“ And you know the reason of the secrecy ? ” 

She was silent for a few minutes. 

‘‘ To tell you the truth, Dick,” she said presently, 
with an unusual gravity in her beautiful face, ‘‘ I do 
not know the reason of it. I only know that there are 
family reasons — he will tell me nothing more — but I 
have such implicit faith and trust in him, that I have 
promised not even to press him with inquiries.” 

Dick shook his head. 

“ I don’t like it, Hester — not at all,” he said gravely. 

Neither do I, Dick ; that is the truth. Not that 
I don’t believe in him, because I do, thoroughly ; but 
because I don’t like hiding anything from papa and 
mamma and from you. And now, having said this 
much, I will ask him to let me at least tell everything 
to you. I shall see him this evening,” she added, 
blushing. 

‘‘ Well, sister mine, I think you will be right in in- 
sisting upon a fair and open explanation of things to 
your family ; if he cannot afford to marry you, let him 
at least not be ashamed to own his engagement to 
you.” 

I quite agree with you, Dick ; and now will you 
go with me to Charing Cross and see me off? it is 
pretty well time that I should be starting, if I am to 
go back by this train.” 

The adieux to the Wright family were made, the cab 
was called and the luggage placed upon it, and then 
Dick and his sister started to Charing Cross Station. 

Hester at heart felt happy to be on her way back to 


258 A Woman's No. 

the Grange. Much as she had enjoyed being with 
Dick, she could not help secretly rejoicing at the 
thought of meeting her lover again. She had been 
now two whole days away from him, and when one is 
very much in love, two days seem like an age. 

She did not speak much to her brother on her way 
to the station. All sorts of sweet dreams of her next 
meeting with him — of what he would say to her, of 
how he would greet her — kept her silent and con- 
jured up soft, happy smiles to her face. 

The station was reached a little early ; there were 
ten minutes to wait until the train started — the brother 
and sister walked up and down the platform together, 
talking earnestly. All at once Dick, turning suddenly 
round, exclaimed, — 

By Jove ! if there isn’t Mannering himself ! with 
a lady too ! — it must be the bride in person ! ” 

Hester turned sharply — a low, smothered cry burst 
from her lips — she caught at Dick’s arm for support ; 
and then the station, and the people coming and going, 
and the porters and the trains, swam in wild confusion 
before her eyes, and she all but fainted. 

What she had seen was — Gertrude Tracy walking 
with John Florian. 


CHAPTER XXX. 


HOW IDA GOT BETTER. 

Ida lay upon the sofa in her bedroom at Eaton 
Square, as white as the pillow against which her head 
was supported. 

Of all the excitement of the last few days — of all the 
strange events which had altered and changed the 
whole of her future life — Ida herself was as perfectly 
unconscious as though she had been the denizen of. 
another sphere. 

Into the stillness and tranquillity of her sick cham- 
ber there entered not the faintest echo of the doings 
of the world without. Xo violent emotions crossed 
the threshold of her door ; no disturbing agitations 
troubled the monotonous yet peaceful atmosphere that 
shrouded her, as with a curtain, from all that was pass- 
ing without, and that was, in truth, of such vital im- 
portance to her. 

The hushed voices of those who came to her door — 
the softened footsteps of the hired nurse — the subdued 
light from the shaded windows — the gentle creaking 
of the doctor’s boots as he crept in for his daily visit — 
these things went on undisturbedly about her day 
after day with a never-ending monotony, which only 
failed to fret and worry her because she had neither 
the strength nor the heart either for fretting or worry- 
259 


26 o 


A Woman's No. 


ing. The girl was getting better, it is true ; but as 
she recovered slowly and almost imperceptibly, she 
gathered no strength by the way. It was as if the 
life she had come back to had struggled back into her 
veins in spite of herself. She had not wanted to live ; 
death would have been almost welcome to her ; for 
what in truth was the life to which she had been so 
painfully and laboriously brought back ? 

Day after day she lay still in her bed, white and 
silent — speaking seldom, smiling never — taking no 
interest in any single thing about her, asking no ques- 
tions about the people that she knew, and with hardly 
the strength, indeed, to think out the weary problem 
of her life. 

When the day came that the doctor recommended 
she should be taken out of bed and placed upon the 
sofa, it was not so much that he considered her in any 
way better, as that he hoped that the change might 
arouse her from the condition of dull apathy which 
was beginning to puzzle, and indeed almost to alarm 
him. Even the bodily fatigue, he thought, might do 
her good. 

The change was made, and Ida, weak and exhausted 
by the slight exertion, was laid in her pretty dressing- 
gown of blue satin and lace upon the couch at the foot 
of her bed. 

She looked so white and so thin, that it went to the 
heart even of the hired nurse who attended her. All 
her pretty color had fled; her bright hair fell back 
lusterless and dim upon her pillows, her eyes looked 
preternaturally large, and seemed to be almost violet 
against the dead- white of her skin; and as to her hands 


How Ida Got Better. 


261 


— little white snowflakes that lay weakly and nerve- 
lessly against her satin wrapper — she could have 
counted every bone and every vein in them, so thin 
and transparent had they become. 

The move had certainly tired her, but it did not 
seem at first to be productive of any other result. 
There was none of the usual pleasure of an invalid at 
finding herself out of her bed ; no desire for occupation 
or amusement, which is one of the most hopeful signs of 
returning health. 

Ida asked for no book, expressed no wish to see any- 
one, took no notice of the flowers that some one — she 
little guessed who — had sent her just before she left 
her bed, and, in fact, exhibited not one whit more of 
animation and of life than she had done for the whole 
of the last week. She only lay quite still and silent ; 
sometimes a long, low sigh burst almost involuntarily 
from her lips, and once two large tears rolled down 
slowly one by one from her wide-opened eyes, and 
dropped all unheeded and unbrushed away upon her 
pretty dressing-gown. 

“ Your papa wishes to know whether he shall come 
and see you, miss ? ” said the voice of the nurse at her 
side. 

“ Papa ? Oh, yes, tell him to come in.” 

Mr. Greythorne entered on tiptoe — the proper mode 
of progressing in a sickroom according to his notions 
— but not productive of happy results on this occasion ; 
for the room being somewhat dark, he first tripped 
over a footstool, and then upset a chair in his efforts 
to be unusually quiet. 

At length, however, he landed himself safely in a 


262 


A Woman's No, 


substantial armchair by the side of his daughter’s 
sofa. The nurse placed a call-bell by his elbow, and 
left the room. 

« My poor darling, how do you feel ? ” he said, lay- 
ing his hand gently on hers. 

I shall be better soon, thank you, papa.” She had 
given him the same answer every morning for the last 
week ; it was less trouble to her probably than any 
other form of words. 

‘‘ You look sadly frail and delicate, my poor child,” 
said her father, looking at her anxiously. 

She smiled faintly and closed her eyes, but made no 
answer. 

He remained quite silent for a few minutes, looking 
at her intently, then with a beating heart he suddenly 
summoned up all his courage and put a question to 
her. 

“ Ida, are you unhappy, my dear ? ” 

Her eyes opened with a start ; she turned her head 
towards him, and the first tinge of color that had been 
seen in her face since her illness flooded for one instant 
her thin and pallid cheeks. He saw that if she had 
been startled by his question, her attention and interest 
had at any rate been awakened. He had the wit to 
pursue the trifling advantage at once. 

“Do not be afraid to confide in your father, my 
pet,” he said caressingly ; “ if anything troubles or 
grieves you, tell your old father all about it. How 
can you tell that I shall not be able to comfort you and 
to help you ? ” ♦ 

“Nobody can help me,” she said, in a broken voice, 
and then a whole shower of tears came raining down 


How Ida Got Better. 263 

over her cheeks. It was better so, he knew, than the 
silence and the inanition of her previous condition. 

‘‘ How can you tell that I cannot help you, child ? 
Ida, tell me, is it about your marriage ? ” 

“ Oh ! papa ! ” Her weak hands sought her hand- 
kerchief, and she lifted it to her face. 

‘‘ Are you not happy at the idea of marrying Man- 
nering ? ” 

“ Don’t ask me,” she said, sobbing. « Mamma will be 
so angry, and I have quite resigned myself to it now ; 
there is no hope for me — nothing can be done — noth- 
ing I ” 

Do you not love him, Ida ? ” continued her father, 
earnestly — he was well determined to unravel the 
secret of her heart ere ever he mentioned Dick For- 
rester’s name to her. A little bird has told me,” he 
continued, using the old familiar nursery fiction so 
as to make light of the matter to her, ‘‘that you 
would gladly shake off your engagement to him if you 
dared — if you were not afraid of your mamma. Is this 
so, my dear ? ” 

Then Ida nestled her head down and laid it upon 
his shoulder. 

“ I don’t Avant to be a trouble to any one, papa,” she 
murmured. “ I have given you trouble enough — you 
and mamma. If it is right that I should marry him — 
and, indeed, I can see that it is my duty — then I am 
quite prepared to do so ; he is very good, and I know 
that you and mamma wish me very much to marry 
him.” 

“Then you do love him?” said Mr. Greythorne, 
with a feeling of disappointment. 


264 A Woman^s No. 

She was silent a minute, then she answered slow- 
ly— 

“ I will do my very best to make him a dutiful and 
affectionate wife.” 

Mr. Greythorne felt at once that his question was 
unanswered. 

“ Ida,” he said presently, would it be a grief to 
you if you were told that you could not become Man- 
nering’s wife ? ” 

She lifted her head up suddenly, and looked at him. 

‘‘A grief, papa?” she said in a startled voice. 

“Yes. I mean would it be a great shock if I were 
to tell you that you must give him up — that it was 
impossible that you could ever marry him ? ” 

She held her hand against her heart, as though to 
still its wild beating. 

“ Papa, for pity’s sake do not trifle with me — do 
not say such things if there is nothing in them.” 

He was still uncertain of her meaning. He looked 
at her earnestly and anxiously as he spoke the next 
words, 

“ My dear, I will not trifle with you : it is so.” 

“ Oh ! do you mean it ? ” she cried piteously. “ Tell 
me what it is — do not keep me in suspense ! ” 

And then he told her the truth. 

“ My child, it is impossible that you can marry Lord 
Mannering, because he has run away with another lady, 
and, I believe, is by this time married to her.” 

A rush of color flooded her face ; then suddenly 
she flung both her arms round her father’s neck, and 
burying her face upon his bosom, burst into a very 
tempest of sobs. 


How Ida Got Better. 265 

My darling, my pet ! ” he cried, much disturbed ; 
“ does it make you so very unhappy ? ” 

“ Unhappy ! Oh, papa ! do I look unhappy ? ” 

She held up her face ; it was radiant through her 
tears. Such an intense joy shone in her eyes that she 
no longer looked like the same girl that had lain so 
pale and quiet on her sofa when he first came in. Her 
whole face was in a glow ; her tears fell it is true — 
but they were tears of delight and not of sorrow ; her 
hands trembled and shook within his, but jt was from 
happiness, and not from grief. 

Glad as he was to see the almost miraculous effect 
his tidings had had upon her, it was a positive shock to 
the father to consider how terrible must have been the 
nervous suffering of his child, and how great the pres- 
sure must have been that had been put upon her to 
force her into a marriage from which it caused her so 
much joy to be released. 

And then he ventured to say another word to 
her, — 

Ida, is there somebody else ? ” 

She hid her face again upon his shoulder, and kissed 
his coatsleeve caressingly. 

‘‘ Did I not once hear of a young lady who went out 
alone on a rainy night and waded across a swollen 
river in order to see a certain young gentleman? — 
who was that, Ida ? ” 

Oh, papa ! ” very low indeed. 

‘^Was that young gentleman’s name Dick For- 
rester ? ” 

Ho answer, only a dumb caress against the coatsleeve 
‘‘ Do you love him, my child ? ” 


266 


A Woman's No. 


And then suddenly she drew herself out of his arms, 
and sank back upon her pillows weeping again. 

“ Oh, papa ! ” she cried ; ‘‘ he will never — never come 
near me again. He came here one day and asked me 
to choose between him and — and my engagement ; and 
mamma was horribly angry with him, and I was weak 
and frightened, and did not dare to speak ; and then 
he said hard, cruel things to me, and he went away 
full of anger ! He will never forgive me or come back 
here any more ! ” 

« Oh, Ida — Ida ! are you sure that he will never 
come back ? Have you never looked at your face in 
the glass, child? Does a man get hopelessly angry 
with a lovely woman whom he loves, if he have a 
chance of winning her ? Dry your eyes, you silly 
cliild, and look at the flowers upon your table. Who 
do you suppose sent them to you ? ” 

She looked up swiftly and joyfully, and reached her 
hands out for the flowers. 

Dicky ^ she said, below her breath — “ Dick sent these 
to me ! ” and then she buried her face in their dewy 
fragrance, and pressed the delicate waxen blossoms of 
her bouquet against her lips. “ To think they should 
have been here on my table, and I never guessed that 
he had sent them ! ” she said, more to herself than 
to him. 

He watched her delightedly ; there was no doubt 
now upon his mind about his child’s secret, nor about 
what there was to be done to make her happy. 

She turned to him presently and laid her hands in 
his. 

« You have seen him, papa ? ” 


How Ida Got Better. 


267 


« He has been here every day.” 

“ And — and — ” 

‘‘ And what, pussy ? Am I going to let you run 
away with him ? Is that what you want to do ? ” 

‘‘ If you please, papa,” she answered demurely. 

‘‘ I suppose I can’t help myself. Yes, child, you may 
marry him if you like. I will give my consent to the 
banns being published as soon as ever you are strong 
enough to walk across the room.” 

‘‘ That will be very soon indeed, papa, dear,” she an- 
swered gaily. “ But oh ! ” with a sudden look of dis- 
may, ‘‘ what will mamma say ? Will she consent too ? ” 

‘‘ Mamma will consent by-and-by, Ida ; she will have 
to do so, in fact, because I shall lay my commands up- 
on her ; and I beg you to observe that your mother, 
although she was unduly prejudiced in favor of a 
certain viscount, is nevertheless a good woman. She 
is quite sure to obey me as in duty bound. Don’t 
make yourself unhappy over that, pussy ; it will all 
come right.” 

She lay quite still for a few minutes, with a little 
flush and a happy smile upon her face ; then she sud- 
denly turned again to him, — 

“ Papa, mayn’t I see Dick ? I should like him to 
come and see me to-morrow.” 

“ Pussy-cat, you are getting positively impudent 1 ” 
he said laughingly, and pinched her cheek. Then he 
stooped down and kissed her, and left her alone to 
her own happy thoughts. 


CHAPTER XXXI. 


THE ALTERED WILL. 

Lord Mannerhstg, all unconscious of who it was who 
had seen him and his supposed bride at Charing Cross 
Station, proceeded on his homeward journey with Ger- 
trude Tracy, with, it may be imagined, very gloomy 
and angry feelings. Hardly a word was exchanged 
between himself and his companion during the short 
railway journey that lasted barely an hour. Once, in- 
deed, as they neared their destination, Gertrude bent 
forward and spoke to him, — 

« I give you one more chance, Lord Mannering. If 
you will marry me — or, at all events give me a written 
promise to do so within two months — I will not betray 
you to Hester Forrester.” 

His only answer was a gesture of anger and indigna- 
tion. 

She leaned back again in her corner. 

“ Very well, then ; you know what you will have to 
expect.” 

“You are a fiend!” replied Mannering, savagely, 
and after that it will be supposed that the conversa- 
tion was not resumed. 

On reaching their own station Lord Mannering got 
out, and with grave but silent politeness handed his 
companion from the carriage. There were the station 
268 


The Altered Will. 


26g 

master and two porters standing by on the platform, 
besides several farmers who had got out of the train, 
and who were also witnesses of their arrival. 

Call a fly for Miss Tracy,” said his lordship aloud 
to one of the porters. 

The fly was called, and Gertrude got into it. 

‘‘ To Orchard Grange,” said Lord Maxinering again, 
in a plainly audible voice. He lifted his hat to the 
lady, and the fly drove off, he himself following on 
foot in the direction of Wilmerton Hall. 

Scandal, which had already been aroused in the 
neighborhood, owing to the strange comings and go- 
ings by rail of the last few days, could make nothing 
of the singular manner in which these two persons 
had thus returned home. Even the stationmaster, who 
prided himself upon being up in every morsel of 
gossip and news, could only look after the two in a 
puzzled manner, and was fain to acknowledge to the 
bystanders that he could make neither head nor tail 
of the business. 

Lord Mannering had no sooner arrived at the doors 
of his grandfather’s house than he became instantly 
aware that something of an unusual nature was going 
on within it. A carriage — it was the doctor’s brough- 
am — stood in front of the house, and a knot of men- 
servants were eagerly chattering together just inside 
the hall door. 

As he approached, these men looked at him and then 
at each other, in a singular manner ; and what was 
still more curious, when he came quite close to them, 
they made no attempt to move aside in order to let 
him enter. 


270 


A Woman's No. 


“ Now then,” he cried out, somewhat angrily, ‘‘ what 
are you' fellows standing about here, crowding up the 
doorway, for ? Move back, some of you, and let me 
pass. What is the matter ? Why is Dr. Baker’s 
carriage here ? and for goodness’ sake don’t stand 
staring at me like a set of idiots — move back, I say, 
instantly ! ” 

But not one of them stirred. 

‘‘ Oh, my lord — ” began one. 

“We have had orders — ” stammered another. 

“ If you would let me call her ladyship to explain — ” 
said a third. 

This was very extraordinary. Lord Mannering 
began to think they had all gone mad. The men 
looked at him respectfully enough, but they seemed 
to be embarrassed and even distressed in speaking to 
him, and they all with one accord stood with marked 
incivility in the doorway, so that it was impossible for 
him to pass into the house. He began to perceive that 
something unusually serious was the matter. 

“ Her ladyship is here ? ” he answered them, with 
surprise, for he had imagined his mother to be in 
Yorkshire ; “ then in Heaven’s name go and fetch her 
at once, and let me understand what all this is about.” 

One of the powdered footmen went off with alacrity, 
whilst another volunteered to give him the information 
that Lord Wilmerton had returned from London two 
hours ago, and had been taken ill immediately on his 
return, and had sent for the doctor. 

Lady Mannering, it appeared, had returned un- 
expectedly from Yorkshire about half an hour later 
than her father-in-law. 


The Altered Will. 271 

Florian was not specially depressed upon hearing of 
his grandfather’s illness — he was so often ill. 

“ Gout, I suppose ? ” he inquired carelessly. 

‘‘ I believe so, my lord,” answered the servant, and 
he did not notice the unusual gravity of the man’s face 
as he said the words. i 

At this moment Lady Mannering appeared ; her face ' 
was full of dismay and consternation ; she seemed 
almost uncertain as to what she should do. 

“ If anything is said, you can lay the blame upon 
me,” she said hurriedly, turning to the men-servants. 

“ You have quite done your duty ; no fault can be 
found with you.” 

Then she took her son’s hand, and led him hastily 
into a small side-room that opened into the hall, closing 
the door carefully behind her. 

‘‘ In Heaven’s name,” cried Florian, impatiently, 

“ what is the meaning of all this fuss and mystery, and 
why was I stopped from coming into the house ? ” 
Because your grandfather has given orders that 
you are never to be admitted into it again ! Oh, you 
unhappy boy ! you have ruined yourself forever ! ” 

And Lady Mannering sank upon a sofa, and burst 
into a flood of tears. 

My dear mother ! ” 

« Do not make excuses, you wretched and un- 
fortunate boy ! Your grandfather knows all.” 

All ! What does he know ? ” 

“ That you are married to that miserable woman, 
Gertrude Tracy; and he has been up to town and 
altered his will in consequence. See, here is your 


272 A Woman's No. 

wife’s letter, which she had the brazen impudence to 
address to him.” 

And Lady Mannering handed him the note which 
Gertrude had written to Lord Wilmerton, and which 
we have already read. 

Florian uttered a low whistle as he took the letter 
from his mother’s hand. When he had read it he 
laughed angrily. 

“ Oh, Florian, how could you do such an insane ac- 
tion ? What can have driven you to it ? ” cried his 
mother, in accents of despair. 

‘‘ To begin with, mother, I have not done it, if by 
doing it ” you mean that I have married Miss Tracy. 
She is not my wife.” 

Lady Mannering sprang joyfully from the sofa. 

What ! ” she cried excitedly. “ It is all false, then ? 
Is it a fabrication ? You have not been up to London, 
and been there two days with her ? You have been 
somewhere else ? You can prove it ? Speak, speak 
quickly, for God’s sake, my son ! It may not be too 
late even now ! ” 

My dear mother, one thing alone, thank God, is 
false,” answered her son, gravely, “ and that is — that 
Miss Tracy is my wife. She is Miss Tracy still, and is 
now at Orchard Grange, under her mother’s pro- 
tection. Be reassured, my dear mother, on that 
point. I have never had the slightest desire to marry 
her ; in fact, I would rather die than do so. But 
there is, unfortunately, no denying that I have got 
myself into a dreadful scrape, out of which I confess 
I do not see my way ; and that my grandfather 
should know of my escapade to London is a fresh 


The Altered Will 


273 


complication, which certainly increases my difficulties. 
Sit down, dear mother, and let me tell you the 
whole story.” 

She sat down, and he told her everything — of his half- 
heartedness in his engagement to Ida — of his sudden 
fancy to Hester, of the way in which he had unexpect- 
edly met her again, and of how his fancy had been 
transformed into deep and true love. He did not hide 
one single detail from her. He told her of his weak- 
ness and his temptations : of how he had madly and 
desperately determined to persuade Hester into a 
clandestine marriage, and of how Gertrude had played 
her shameful and all but successful trick upon him ; 
he described all that had happened in London, and 
told her of his homeward journey up to the moment, 
not half an hour ago, when he had seen Miss Tracy 
safely into the fly that had conveyed her away out of 
his sight. 

When he had flnished his story, poor Lady Manner- 
ing sighed from the very depths of her heart, and 
wrung her hands despairingly. 

“It is bad, very bad,” she said, with a sort of groan 
— “ almost as bad as it could well be ! The fact re- 
mains that you have behaved shamefully to Miss Grey- 
thorne, and thrown her over — irreparably, I suppose ! ” 

“ Irreparably,” assented Florian, gravely but decid- 
edly. 

“ I do not see, besides, how we could possibly explain 
things to your grandfather. In his present state, his 
mind would never grasp so intricate and extraordinary 
a story. Do you know that he is very ill ? ” 

“ Only gout, I suppose ? ” 

18 


274 


A Woman's No. 


‘‘ The gout has struck inwardly. Dr. Baker thinks 
very badly of him indeed ; he considers there is very 
little chance of his recovery — but we have sent for 
further advice.” 

‘‘ Indeed ! I am deeply distressed to hear it,” said 
Lord Mannering, and he was smitten with a pang of 
sincere remorse, for he could not help divining that 
the shock of the news of his own conduct had but 
too probably dealt the old man his death-blow. 

“ He told the Grey thornes when he was in town,” 
continued Lady Mannering. 

“ I am glad of that ; it is a relief to me to know that 
they are aware of my conduct to them, for which, in- 
deed, I am unable to offer any excuse.” 

‘‘ He then went on to his solicitor’s and ordered him 
draw up a new will. Oh, Florian, he is going to leave 
every shilling away from you that he can ! You will 
be a poor man with a large estate I Oh ! why have you 
thrown away all your prospects in this reckless man- 
ner ? ” 

Lord Mannering — devotedly as he loved Hester, and 
resolute as he now was to make her his wife at any 
price — could not but look grave at the news which his 
mother thus gave him. An earl is but a small per- 
sonage when he has eight hundred a year and an 
estate to keep up on it. He felt unable to offer any 
consolation either to himself or his mother upon his 
prospects. 

“ My only comfort,” he said gloomily, after a few 
moments of painful silence, ‘‘ is that Ida herself did 
not, I believe, love me very much. I think from what 
$he herself told me when I proposed to her, that al- 


The Altered Will. 


275 


though she liked me sufficiently, she had only consented 
to the marriage to meet the wishes of her parents — all 
along that has been my greatest consolation.” 

Lady Mannering only sighed; she did not care 
about Ida’s feelings ; it was her son’s lost fortune over 
which she lamented. 

He has telegraphed to town to his solicitor since 
he was taken ill,” she said presently ; he is to bring 
down the will for him to sign.” 

Lord Mannering looked up. 

The will that is to ruin me is not signed ? All is 
not yet lost, then ? ” 

“ Alas ! no entreaties will induce him now to change 
his mind. I have been for an hour upon my knees 
before him ! ” 

‘‘ But if he is so ill,” said Florian, in a low voice, 
will the lawyer arrive in time ? ” 

Lady Mannering, too, lowered her voice to an awe- 
struck whisper. There are some things that are best 
spoken in a low voice. 

‘‘The train that should bring him is due at the 
station now ; he ought to be here in five minutes.” 

At that instant there was a great commotion above, 
and a hurrying of footsteps overhead. In a few min- 
utes a servant rushed hastily into the room. 

“ My lord is taken worse ! Dr. Baker says would 
you come up at once, my lady ? ” 

Lady Mannering hurried from the room. 

Florian at that very moment, glancing out of the 
windows, beheld the dark body of the brougham that 
had been sent to the station to meet the lawyer coming 
rapidly up the avenue. 


A Woman's No. 


276 

A few minutes of breathless suspense, then Lady 
Mannering came rushing into the room again. 

“ He will not see me ! ” she cried brokenly. “ He 
cannot live ten minutes now, Dr. Baker says. Pray 
Heaven the train may be late ! ” 

Florian pointed to the brougham. 

“ Will he live to sign it ? ” he gasped hoarsely. 

At such a time there was no possibility of conceal- 
ment between the mother and son. 

Lady Mannering uttered a faint cry. The brougham 
had dashed up to the door, arid the figure of the 
soberly-clad, middle-aged solicitor, with a legal- 
looking bag under his arm, was seen emerging from it. 

‘‘ He is in time ! ” cried Lady Mannering, and flung 
up her hands in despair. 


CHAPTER XXXII. 




Hester’s despair. 

It was some minutes after that fatal encounter at 
the Charing Cross Station before Dick Forrester could 
clearly understand what it was that had so upset his 
sister. Her first inarticulate words had been a prayer 
to him to let her get away. 

She hurried him into the waiting-room, and sat 
down, faint and breathless, upon the nearest chair. 
He fetched her a glass of water, and looked anxiously 
at her pale face and white trembling lips. 

“ My dear sister, how ill you look ! What has hap- 
pened to you ? ” he inquired perplexedly. 

“Did you not see? ” she said shudderingly. 

“ See what ? I only saw Lord Mannering, as I told 
you. Do you know her — the lady, I mean ? ” 

Hester trembled violently. 

“Yes, I know her,” she said faintly. “ But it is not 
Lord Mannering, Dick ; you are mistaken.” 

Dick opened his eyes in surprise. 

“ Why, who else do you suppose it was ? I know 
him perfectly. It is certainly Lord Mannering, and no 
one else ! Hester, what is the matter ? You are going 
to faint, I believe ! You cannot go by this train — you 
are too ill.” 

“ No, I can’t go by this train. I can’t go back there 

277 


A Woman's No. 


278 

again at all, ever ! Oh ! Dick, take me away ! ” she 
moaned. Take me somewhere away from every- 
body ! Not back to Margaret’s — I could not go there ! 
Take me to your own rooms till I can get home to 
mamma.” 

With but a dim glimmering of the truth of what had 
befallen her, Dick, nevertheless, thought it best to 
obey her in silence. He got her into a cab, and took 
her home to his own newly- furnished lodgings. 

There, by degrees, the whole story came from her 
pale and shivering lips. Lord Mannering, Ida’s lover, 
was his sister’s lover also ! And he had betrayed her 
too — and for Gertrude Tracy ! 

It seemed to honest Dick Forrester that a man who, 
being engaged to one woman, could assume a false 
name in order to make love to a second, and finally 
run away with a third, was a villain too atrocious to 
be allowed to live. 

He paced up and down the small room in a state of 
speechless fury, whilst, bit by bit, he wrung the whole 
sad tale of her love from Hester’s lips. 

‘‘Horsewhipping is too good for him!” he cried, 
clenching his hands wildly. “ I will expose him ! 
His name shall be a byword over all England, black- 
guard that he is I ” 

And then Hester stood up, white and haggard, but 
stern and erect, with eyes that fiashed angrily and 
fiercely at her brother. 

“ Hush ! Never dare to say such words to me again, 
Dick ! I will not stop here to hear you speak of the 
man I love in such language ! ” 

“ But, Hester,” cried Dick, stopping short in amaze- 


279 


Hester's Despair. 

ment before her, you cannot love him now ! Surely 
your heart can be filled with nothing but rage and anger 
against a man like that, who has deceived you from 
first to last — who first won your heart by false pre- 
tences, and then has filing you from him, as if you were 
a worthless woman of whom his fancy had tired ! Do 
you think I will not be revenged upon a man who has 
treated my sister in such a fashion ? ” 

If you hurt a hair of his head — if you speak one 
harsh or cruel word to him — I will never see you in 
this world again ! ” she cried wildly. I tell you I 
love him — now, at this very minute, in spite of all he 
has done to me, better than my life ! He has broken 
my heart, but the worst that he has dealt to me has 
been powerless to lessen my love ! ” 

Dick was so astonished by this outburst that he was 
struck dumb for lack of suitable words in which to 
reply to her. 

Surely,” he said to himself, ‘‘ the ways of women 
are inscrutable ! And the more a man thinks he knows 
of them, the more unintelligible to him are the wind- 
ings of their hearts ! ” 

Hester had sunk back, exhausted and weakened by 
her own violence, upon the chair from which she had 
arisen. 

‘‘ Leave me alone ! ” she said to him presently. “ All 
you can do for me is to let me be in peace. Go 
out, Dick, about your business, and leave me to my- 
self ! ” 

Seeing that he could do her no good, and that his 
presence seemed to irritate her, and that his vows of 
vengeance against the man who had wronged her only 


28 o 


A Woman’s No. 


angered her to madness, Dick obeyed her in silence, 
and left her alone. 

For several days the brother and sister remained 
in Dick’s lodgings thus together, whilst Hester en- 
deavored to live down the first shock of her terrible 
misfortune. 

She had written two letters — one to Mrs. Tracy, 
telling her shortly that she could not return to Orchard 
Grange, and begging that her belongings might be sent 
to her at once to her brother’s rooms ; and one to her 
mother, to say that, for reasons which she was unable 
to enter into by letter, she had given up her situation, 
and that, being far from well, as soon as she could she 
intended to start northwards, and come home again. 

These two letters despatched, she gave herself up 
entirely to her grief, shutting herself up in the tiny 
bedroom which Dick had hastily fitted up for her, and 
refusing to see her brother, save for a few minutes 
morning and evening. 

Never in all her after life could Hester quite think 
of those few terrible days without a keen recollection 
of all the agony of suffering which they caused her ; 
nor could she ever entirely forget the keen pain of the 
awful awakening from the fool’s paradise of her happy 
love to the black and hopeless reality of her shattered 
life. 

The poor girl went over a hundred times all the 
little details of her interviews with her lover. Sin; 
took out all his trifiing gifts: the simple little ring 
she had worn upon her finger ; the locket with his 
hair he had hung about her neck; and then the 
fiowers she had taken from his coat and preserved 


28 i 


Hester^s Despair. 

because he had worn them ; and the little cluster of 
brown nuts which he had playfully tapped against 
her hand on that never-to-be-forgotten day at The 
Cottage shrubbery gate when he had first aroused the 
fiame of love in the hitherto untroubled depths of her 
soul. All these things poor Hester laid out before her 
on the table, recalling all the little incidents con- 
nected with each, raising them one by one to her 
lips, whilst blinding tears fell fast from her eyes. And 
then she would tell herself that it was impossible that 
this man, whose voice and whose eyes had known so 
well how to speak of love to her, could have been so 
false. 

“ It must be some horrible dream ! ” she would say 
to herself ; some nightmare which had come to her, 
from which surely, in time, she would awake, and be 
able to laugh at her dreadful delusions ! 

But, alas ! there seemed to be no awakening out of 
her troubles. 

Shut up within the narrow confines of her brother’s 
room, Hester thus fought out the battle of her sorrow 
tearfully and broken-heartedly, and indeed not very 
bravely, but still to the best of the powers of her poor 
bruised and bleeding heart. And meanwhile the 
world without went on its way — people were born, 
and married and died, and she neither knew nor cared. 

Dick, it is true, saw old Lord Wilmerton’s death in 
the Times^ but he did not see that the information 
would do his sister any good, and thought it wisest to 
avoid all mention of the subject. 

One day she sat as usual, empty-handed and idle, by 
the fire in her brother’s little sitting-room. Dick was 


282 


A Woman's No. 


out — probably at Eaton Square, for it was yet early in 
the day, and he was much engrossed at this time by 
his visits to the Greythornes, and by his own bright 
and happy prospects. Hester, therefore, was alone. 
She was telling herself, for the first time to-day, that 
she was better and stronger ; that she felt more able 
now to resume her old life and her old place in her 
parents’ house, and that she must delay her return 
home no longer. 

As she looked out of the window upon the dingy 
London street — at the shabby houses opposite with 
their grimy brick facings, their dull and gloomy win- 
dows, and the broken and blackened chimney-pots 
which crowned the horizon — there came over her a 
longing for the free moorland breezes and the wooded 
hillsides of her native country — for the steep rocks of 
the narrow glen and the fresh rushing of the Lennan 
.waters below ; and such a yearning of home-sickness 
came over her that suddenly she rose from her chair 
to find her writing-case, that she might sit down and 
send a letter to her mother, announcing her arrival at 
The Cottage on the very next evening. 

Just as she had taken her pen in hand the door 
opened and the servant brought her in a little three- 
cornered note on a tray. With a strange apprehension 
at her heart, Hester took it up hastily and opening it 
with trembling fingers, read the few words scrawled 
in pencil : — 

“I have found out where you are staying. Will 
you see me ? J. Florian.” 

« The gentleman is very anxious to come up, miss,” 


Hester's Despair. 283 

said the servant. But Hester only stared at the scrap 
of paper in her trembling hands and said nothing. 

Then suddenly a blind rage and anger filled her soul. 
How dare he sign himself by that false name to her ? 
Did he still suppose that she was to be his dupe ? No ; 
she would not see him — never in this world again if 
she could help it ! 

She crushed up the note in her hand, and tossed it 
back on to the tray. 

“ Take the gentleman back his note,” she said to the 
maid ; “ there is some mistake. I do not know any- 
body of the name.” 

The servant left the room. 

There was a short pause, and the sound of voices 
below ; then the maid came in again. 

“ The gentleman says he is sure you will see him, 
miss — that he has something very particular to say, 
and hopes you will see him, if only for five minutes.” 

“ Why don’t you do as I tell you ? ” cried Hester, 
turning round upon her angrily. ‘‘Have I not told 
you that I don’t know him ? No ; I will not see him ! 
Go and tell him so again ! ” 

This time there was no delay. The street door was 
shut to almost instantly with a bang ; the visitor had 
evidently departed. 

She crept to the window, and looked furtively out. 
Across the road she could see a tall, slight figure walk- 
ing slowly away, with bent head, and hands thrust 
gloomily into his coat pockets. He did not pause or 
look back, and presently he turned a corner of the 
street and was gone. 

Then Hester turned away, and, with a gesture of 


A Woman's No. 


284 

despair, flung herself wildly down upon her knees, 
burying her head in the cushions of a chair. 

Oh, my love, my love ! ” she cried aloud in her 
misery ; “ how have I been able to send you away from 
me without a word or a look ? Oh, come back to me, 
my love, my darling — come back, come back ! ” 

But he was far out of sight and hearing, and there 
was no answer to her broken-hearted cry. 

She lay there a long time, face downwards, amongst 
the cushions, weeping wildly at first, beating her hands 
despairingly together, and calling out aloud in her des- 
perate misery and self-pity ; but by-and-by she grew 
quite still and calm. She did not change her attitude, 
but she lay quietly silent, whilst a sort of numbness 
and apathy crept over her. 

After a long while she roused herself and stood up. 
She was deadly pale, and as she caught sight of her own 
face in the glass over the chimney-piece she almost 
started at the sight of it, so wan and aged did she 
appear. 

“ It is all over now,” she said to herself, in a low 
voice. “ By my own action I have cut away my last 
hope. Well, it is better so. There is nothing really 
that he could have said — nothing could have restored 
the broken idol of my heart to its pedestal; it is 
shattered forever. Had I been weak enough to see 
him but once, the task of spurning him forever out of 
my heart would only have been all the harder. ISTo, 
I have done wisely, and now it is over. There is noth- 
ing now but to take up my past life again meekly and 
patiently, and to live down the memory of these 
months of fatal and deluded happiness.” 


Hester's Despair. 285 

When Dick came in that evening he found his sister 
on her knees before her open box packing her clothes. 

“ Hallo, Hester ! what is this for ? ” 

I am going home to-morrow ; I have written to 
mamma to expect me,” she answered, not looking up 
from her task. 

“ My dear girl, are you strong enough for the journey, 
do you think ? ” 

“ I am quite well,” she answered steadily ; ‘‘ and I 
am tired of London, and want to get home as soon as 
I can.” 

“ I wanted you to have seen Ida before you left — 
she wishes so much to see you.” 

« Forgive me, dear Dick,” she said gently, “ I cannot 
see her now — give her my dear love — and I shall see 
her by-and-by, when she comes back to Strathendale ; 
and oh ! how glad I shall be when your wedding-day 
comes, dear, and you are happy at last ! But do not 
ask me to see her now ! ” 

She kissed him affectionately, and he said no more 
to her. 

The next morning she started on her homeward 
journey. 


CHAPTER XXXIII. 


BY THE LENNAN AGAIN. 

Ida was rapidly recovering her strength and her 
spirits, and now went about the house as usual, sing- 
ing gaily as she went, and with a face as bright as 
summer sunshine. 

Lady Cressida had recovered her disappointment 
and her blighted ambition, and, like a wise woman, 
had determined to make the best of a marriage that 
was clearly inevitable. She had wept a little over her 
daughter, and had made her peace with her future 
son-in-law by kissing him on the forehead, informing 
him as she did so that she had really always been 
fond of him, only that she felt it a matter of duty not 
to encourage his attentions to Ida as long as there did 
not seem to be any hope for him — a statement which 
Dick good-naturedly took for what it was worth, too 
thankful, however, to be at peace with Ida’s mother, 
not to be glad to bury the past in oblivion, and to take 
in good part any conciliatory speeches which she made 
to him. 

Nothing now was talked of but the wedding which 
it seemed useless to delay any longer. Both Dick and 
Ida had set their hearts upon its taking place at 
Strathendale. To Strathendale, therefore, the Grey- 
thornes returned as soon as ever Christmas was over ; 

286 


By the Lennan Again. 287 

and Dick, of course, went back to his father’s house, 
where no wounded hero, returning crowned with glori- 
ous laurels after the perils of a dangerous war, could 
have been received with greater enthusiasm than was 
our friend by his delighted parents. 

It seemed to Mrs. Forrester, indeed, as if her beloved 
son had achieved some wonderful and praiseworthy 
success in life — which, however, as she repeated a 
dozen times a day, had been only what she had always 
prophesied for him, and which was, in fact, but the 
just reward of his talents and his merits. 

Once installed upon the Lennan banks in their old 
quarters, the intercourse between the lovers became 
frequent, and the happy days flowed by serenely and 
peacefully ; whilst amidst the smiles and congratula- 
tions of their relations and friends they awaited the 
day which had been flxed for their marriage. 

One sad blot only marred their perfect happiness 
To both Dick and Ida, Hester’s condition was a subject 
of sore distress and sorrow. Little by little Ida had 
learnt from Dick the truth of poor Hester’s unfortu- 
nate love-story, and after a while Hester herself spoke 
of it to her. 

‘‘ To think that it was I — your friend — for whom he 
deceived and betrayed you ! ” she cried one day, 
pressing her hands with tearful eagerness. “ Ah ! if I 
had known that he was your lover — do not suppose I 
could have been so base — ” 

“ My dearest Hester, pray do not distress yourself. 
As to being my lover^ to tell you the truth. Lord Man- 
nering — or Lord Wilmerton, as I should now call him 
— was never that, there was never any love between 


288 


A Woman's No. 


us. Our relations on both sides wished us to be 
married, and we endeavored to accommodate our- 
selves to their wishes — that was about it — and a very 
poor success we made of it too ! I fell in love with 
Dick — he fell in love with you ! ” 

She shook her head. 

There was no love for me, Ida,” she said in a low, 
pained voice. “ A man who could tell me that his 
name was John Florian — ” 

“ Well, so it was,” cried Ida ; ‘‘ those are his Christian 
names ; there was no untruth in that. ” 

“ He meant to deceive me — to hide from me who he 
was — because he knew well enough that had I known 
him to be your lover I would never have listened to 
one word from him ; and then consider his after 
conduct — that woman ! ” and she shuddered. 

“ There, Hester, I feel convinced that you are mis- 
taken ! ” cried Ida, eagerly. “ Lord Wilmerton is not 
married to anybody, as I told you the other day. In a 
letter I had this morning from a friend in Paris, his 
name is casually mentioned as staying at the same 
hotel, and not a word is said about a wife. Had there 
been a new Lady Wilmerton to write about, I am 
certain my friend would have spoken of her, as she is 
the greatest gossip I know. There has been, I am sure, 
some mistake, and you have misjudged and misunder- 
stood him. If you had only seen him once — ” 

Do not speak of it, Ida,” she interrupted tearfully. 
“ I am thankful I have not seen him ; my only prayer 
is that I may never meet him again.” 

These were the sort of conversations that frequently 
passed between the two girls, now so soon to become 


By the Lennan Again. 289 

sisters ; and each one left Hester more hopeless, and 
Ida more distressed upon her account. 

Hester was very much altered. All her bright col- 
or had fled, and left her pale and heavy-eyed ; she 
was no longer the brisk, active girl, who used to be so 
full of life and of happy and useful occupation. She 
went about drearily and slowly, speaking very seldom, 
sighing often, laughing never. It made Dick’s heart 
ache to see her ; time seemed to do nothing for her, and 
the weeks as they sped away brought no peace to her 
heart nor healing to her wound. She told herself over 
and over again that all was at an end ; that she wished 
to forget him, and to see him no more — yet day and 
night she was fllled with a never-dying yearning to 
see him once more, with a longing to be with him 
which nothing could quench or stifle. 

Her love, thus repressed and driven inwards, fed up- 
on her strength, and sapped up all the healthy outlets 
of her life. It was killing her by inches, and those 
around her sadly saw that it was so, and yet were 
powerless to help her. 

One night Ida, lying awake, pondering over it all, 
suddenly bethought her of something that she would 
do. An idea flashed into her brain that seemed noth- 
ing short of inspiration. She could hardly bear to 
wait till morning, so impatient was she to impart her 
project to her lover. Dick, however, when he listened 
to her eager and excited words, threw cold water upon 
them. “ She had much better not interfere,” he said 
“ the man wasn’t worth it ; she had better let things 
alone.” Ida held her tongue ; she was discouraged, of 
course, by his adverse opinion, and did nothing at all, 

19 


290 


A Woman’s No. 


for that day at least. In the night, however, she thought 
of it again, and so great was the hold that her project 
began again to have upon her, and so vivid w^ere her 
previsions of success, that no sooner was it daylight 
than she jumped out of bed, slipped on her warm 
dressing-gown, ran to her writing-table and wrote the 
following letter : — 


“ Strathendale, January 12. 

“Dear Lord Wilmerton^, — I am sure you will be 
surprised at my writing to you, although I don’t know 
why you should be, as I should be very sorry to think 
we were not friends, in spite of everything; and I 
daresay you know that I am going to be married very 
soon to Mr. Forrester. Well, what I am writing to 
you about is not that ; but there is some one here — you 
will guess who she is — who loves you very dearly, and 
who is very unhappy. I cannot believe that you have 
intended to treat a girl who is so good and so beautiful 
as she is as badly as people say you have. If, indeed, 
you do not love her, you are right to keep away, so 
that she may learn to forget you ; but, dear Lord 
Wilmerton, if you do love her, and it is only some 
wretched misunderstanding between you that keeps 
you away from her, then pray end it at once, and come 
up to her, and insist upon seeing her, for indeed the 
misery of it is simply killing her. Write to me, and 
tell me the truths I entreat you ; and if nothing can be 
done, then forgive the interference of your old friend, 

Ida Greythorne.” 

This letter was, perhaps, ill- worded and childishly 


291 


By the Lennan Again. 

expressed, but it came straight from Ida’s affectionate 
heart, and as such possessed a genuineness and a ring 
of sincerity which many a more elaborate composition 
might easily have lacked. 

She said no word to any one, but posted her letter 
secretly and stealthily. Then she awaited the answer, 
with what anxiety it is impossible to describe. 

Two days went by. Ida was sick with suspense 
and anxiety. At times she would have given worlds 
to have recalled her letter. What if she should re- 
ceive a cold and angry answer to it, full of polite denial 
of any knowledge of the lady alluded to, and of covered 
scorn for herself and her unfortunate interference ? Or, 
worse still, what if she should never receive any answer 
at all ? Should she ever dare to confess to Dick the 
impulsive action she had been guilty of, against his 
advice and his judgment? Then again she gathered 
hope, and recollected that he was probably not at Wil- 
merton, where she had addressed the letter, and that 
it would have to be forwarded to him wherever he 
might be staying. 

The third morning came — no letter ! Ida was on 
the point of confessing to Dick ; her secret was becom- 
ing too heavy for her to bear alone. One day longer 
she determined to wait — that one day turned the scale 
in her favor. A coroneted letter with the Paris post- 
mark lay on her plate at breakfast. She tore it open 
breathlessly, and read as follows : — 

‘‘ Dear Ida, — Let me still call you so. You are an 
angel — God bless you ! I love her with my whole 
heart — it is only a horrible misundertanding that has 


292 


A Woman’s No. 


parted us. My heart has been half broken, but now — 
thanks to you — I trust all will yet be well, and that she 
will forgive me. I start for England in an hour, and 
shall go straight to the inn at the Lennan Bridge, 
where I hope to be on Tuesday night. Will you man- 
age to get her out on the path by the river at eleven 
on Wednesday morning without telling her that I 
am there ? Did you hear that my poor grandfather 
diedlbefore he was able to sign his will? so that, for- 
tunately, I have not suffered for my follies as I deserve, 
and can afford to give my beautiful darling all that 
she is worthy of. — Yours ever gratefully, 

WiLMEKTON.” 


« Come out for a walk, Hester.” 

“ My dear Ida, it is drizzling ! ” 

“ Not a bit of it — only a little mist, and it is quite 
warm. I have come on purpose to drag you out for a 
walk.” 

“ Why ; where is Dick, your bond slave ? ” 

‘‘ Oh ! he is busy. He does not want me this morn- 
ing. I want to go and see Mrs. M’Creay at the Len- 
nan Bridge Inn. Somebody told me her baby had 
bronchitis.” (A free invention. Miss Ida!) “We 
really ought to go and inquire. Do go and get your 
hat, and come out, Hester ! ” 

Rather reluctantly Hester fetches her hat, and con- 
sents to be taken out for a walk. Ida leads the way 
down to the Lennan side, and they walk along the nar- 
row path by the river in the direction of the Bridge 
Inn, 


293 


By the Lennan Again. 

Suddenly Ida exclaims, — 

Good gracious ! I have left my purse behind in 
your house. I must go back and fetch it.” 

“ What nonsense ! It will be quite safe. You don’t 
want it at the inn, do you ? ” 

Yes, indeed I do. I owe Mrs. M’Creay some money 
for little Tommy’s schooling. He is my godson, you 
know, and I pay for him.” 

‘‘ I haven’t any money with me,” says Hester, feel- 
ing in her pockets. 

Ida, who has ascertained this fact beforehand, makes 
a gesture of mock despair. 

‘‘ I must go back, then. Sit down on this rock, and 
wait for me.” 

« Why should I not go with you ? ” 

“I shall go twice as quickly alone. You are not 
strong enough to run, and I can run the whole way. 
Sit doAvn here till I come back.” 

And she darts away, without waiting for an answer. 

Hester, who indeed is far from strong in these days, 
is glad enough to sit down and rest for a few minutes. 
The river rushes on its way amid its brown boulders 
before her. The leafless trees murmur a soothing, end- 
less lullaby behind. Far away are the great brown 
moors, that rise silent and solemn in their winter dark- 
ness behind the Strathendale woods on the opposite 
bank. It is a dear and familiar scene to her — her 
home — where henceforth her life must be spent. And 
yet Hester is sad, very sad indeed, as she looks at it all, 
and her eyes All slowly with a blinding mist of tears. 

Suddenly through the mist she sees some one coming 
along the path towards her. 


294 


A Woman’s No. 


A low cry bursts from her lips — cry half of sur- 
prise and half of fear — yet all of gladness too ; and 
then he takes her, without a word, in his arms, and 
holds her to his heart. 

There are no words, no explanations between them — 
not now, at least — only they look into each other’s 
glad eyes, and understand each other once and for- 
ever. 

“ Mj darling, don’t you know that I love you? ” he 
murmurs, kissing her passionately, and she nestles her 
head upon his bosom, and answers him only by a low 
sigh of content. 

Moments — they might have been twenty, or they 
might have been only ten — pass by thus : then sud- 
denly there is a laugh on the path behind them. 

“ Have you made it up ? ” cried Ida, with shining 
eyes. “Yes, I see that you have; then shake hands 
with me. Lord Wilmerton, and kiss me, Hester, and 
let us settle to be all married on the same day.” 

And this was the last of Lord Wilmerton’s love 
affairs. 


THE END. 


s 








yoan^ the Curate 


By FLORENCE tF ARDEN 

jo8 pages y size ^Yz x Sy Cloth 3 stampings y $1,00 


The time of the story is 1748, its scene being along the 
feeacoast of Sussex, England. The doings here of the “free 
traders, “ as they called themselves, or smugglers, as the 
government named them, had become so audacious that a 
revenue cutter with a smart young lieutenant in command, 
and a brigade of cavalry, were sent down to work together 
against the offenders. Everybody in the village seems en- 
gaged in evading the revenue laws, and the events are very 
exciting. Joan is the parson’s daughter, and so capable and 
useful in the parish that she is called “ the curate.” She and 
the smart young lieutenant are the characters in a romance. 

— Book Notes, 

“Joan, the Curate” (Joan, a creamy-skinned, black-eyed 
maiden, gets her surname on account of the part she plays 
in helping her father. Parson Langley, with his duties), is a 
village tale of the smuggling days on the wild marsh coast 
of Kent and the equally lonely cliffs of Sussex. The village 
is a hot-bed of these daring “free traders,” even the parson 
and his daughter are secretly in sympathy with them, and 
young Lieutenant Tregenna, who is in command of the 
revenue cutter sent to overawe the natives, has anything but 
a comfortable task to perform. His difficulties only increase 
when he falls in love with Joan and discovers her leanings 
towards the illegalities of the village, and when, at the same 
time, the audacious leader of the smugglers, Ann Price, who 
carries on her trade disguised as a man, falls in love with 
him herself, the complications are almost bewildering. 
The story moves through countless adventures, sanguinary 
fights, and lovers’ quarrels to the conventioiicdly happy 
ending and the partial return of the fishermen to honest 
ways. — Book News^ 

Miss Florence Warden in “Joan, the Curate” tells an or- 
thodox tale of smugglers in the last century with plenty of 
exciting adventures and no deviations from the accepted 
traditions of a familiar pattern in fiction. — N, P, Sun^ 

At all booksellers or will he sent^ 
postpaid^ upon receipt of price by 


F. M. BUCKLES & COMPANY 

East i6th Street, New York 


The Real Lady Hilda 


By B. M. CROKER 


^66 pages y size 7)^ x 5^ Cloth y j stampings y $1^00 


"•The Real Lady Hilda, ^ by B. M. Croker, is a very pleas- 
ing novel, depending for its interest not upon sensational in- 
cident, but upon a clever portrayal of disagreeable traits of 
character in high society. The story is told by a young lady 
who finds herself with her stepmother in obscure lodgings iri 
an obscure country town. The head of the family had been 
physician to a Rajah in India, had lived in princely style and 
had entertained in princely fashion. He had died and left to 
his widow and child nothing but a small pension, and they 
soon found themselves in straightened circumstances. Be- 
sides the character drawing, the entertaining feature of the 
story lies in the shabby treatment which the two impecun- 
ious women receive from the people whom they have so 
royally entertained in India, and the inability of the widow, 
with her Indian experience, to understand it. Entertaining 
too is the fawning toad} \sni of the middle-class women, who 
disdainfully tip their noses and w’ag their tongues when they 
find that the poor women are neglected by the great lady in 
the neighborhood, 

— The Bookseller y Newsdealer and Stationer, 

Mrs. Croker belongs to the group of English country life 
novelists. She is not one of its chief members, but she suc- 
ceeds often in being amusing in a quiet, simple way. Her 
gentlefolk lack the stamp of caste, but the plots in which 
they are placed are generally rather ingenious. Of course, 
in a field so assiduously worked, one cannot look for origin- 
ality. The present book is just what the author modestly 
calls it — a “sketch,” with the usual poor girl of good family 
and the equally familiar happy ending. — Mail and Express- 


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p-ii East i6th Street, New York 


The Good Mrs, Hypocrite 


By ^‘RITA ” 

284 pages, size ^5, Cloth, j stampings, $1.00 


“Good Mrs. Hypocrite, “ a study in self-righteousness 
is a most enjoyable novel by “ Rita.** It has little of plot, 
and less of adventure, but is the study of a single character 
and a narration of her career. But she is sufficiently unique 
To absorb the attention, and her purely domestic experiences 
are quite amusing. She is the youngest daughter of a Scotch 
family, angular as to form and sour as to feature. She had 
an aggressive manner, was selfish, and from girlhood set her- 
S;jlf against all tenderness of sentiment. Losing her parents, 
she tried her hand as a governess, went to her brother in 
Australia, returned to England and joined a sisterhood in 
strange garb, and her quarrelsome disposition and her habit 
of quoting scripture to set herself right made her presence 
everywhere objectionable. For this old maid was very re- 
ligious and strict as to all outward forms. Finally she went to 
live with an invalid brother. She discharged the servant, 
chiefly because she was plump and fair of feature, and she 
replaced her with a maid as angular as herself, straight from 
Bdinbro*. The maid was also religious and quoted scripture, 
and the fun of the story lies in the manner in which the 
woman who had had her way so long was beaten by own 
Weapons. — Bookseller, Newsdealer and Stationer, 

The Scotch character is held up in this story at its worst. 
All its harshness, love of money, unconscious hypocrisy, 
which believes in lip-service while serving but its own self, 
are concentrated in the figure of the old spinster who takes 
charge of her invalid brother’s household. She finds a match, 
however, in the Scotch servant she hires, hard like herself, 
but with the undemonstrative kindness that seems to be a 
virtue of the race. The book lacks the charm that lies at 
the root of the popularity of the books of the “Kailyard** 
school. In its disagreeable way, however, it is consistent, 
though the melodramatic climax is not the ending one has a 
right to expect. — The Mail and Express, 

At all booksellers or will be senty 

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Captain yachman 


By JV. CLARK RUSSELL 

240 pages ^ size jyti x Clothe j stampings, $1,00 


Captain Jackman ; or, A Tale of Two Tunnels,’* is a story 
by W. Clark Russell, not so elaborate in plot as some of his 
stories, or so full of life on the sea, but some of the char- 
acters are sailors, and its incidents are of the ocean, if not on 
it. Its hero is dismissed from the command of a ship by her 
owners, because of his loss of the proceeds of a voyage, 
which they evidently think he had appropriated to himself. 
The heroine discovers him in, and rescues him from a de- 
serted smuggler’s cave, where he had by some mischance 
imprisoned himself. He handsome, she romantic as well, 
they fall in love with each other. Her father, a retired 
commander of the Royal navy, storms and swears to no pur- 
pose, for she elopes with the handsome captain, who starts 
on an expedition to capture a Portugese ship laden with gold 
— a mad scheme, conceived as it appears by a madman, which 
accounts for his curious and unconventional ways. 

— Bookseller, Newsdealer and Stationer* 

It is readable, interesting, and admirable in its technical 
skill. Mr. Russell, without apparent effort, creates an atmos- 
phere of realism. His personages are often drawn with a few 
indicative strokes, but this can never be said of his central 
figures. In the present little story the fascinating personal- 
ity of Captain Jackman stands out very clearly. He is a 
curious study, and the abnormal state of his mind is made 
to come slowly into the recognition of the reader just as it 
does into that of old Commander Conway, R. N. This is 
really a masterly bit of story-craft, fer it is to this that the 
maintenance of the interest of the story is due. The reader 
does not realize at first that he is following the fortunes of a 
madman, but regards Jackman as a brilliant adventurer. 
The denoument is excellently brought about, although it 
gives the tale its sketchy character. — N. K. Times* 


At all booksellers or will be sent 
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A Rogue* s Conscience 


By DAVID CHRISTIE MURRAT 

JIT pages^ size x s. Cloth, j stampings, $i.oo. 


It is rather unusual to find a detective story written from 
the criminal’s point of view, and truth to tell, in this 
“Rogue’s Conscience,” by David Christie Murray, we find 
our sympathies and anxieties strongly following the hunted 
ones. Mr. James Mortimer and Mr. Alexander Ross were 
such entertaining sinners, and their disguises were so mar- 
vellous, and their escapes so hairbreadth, that we follow the 
comedy of their fortunes with unfailing cheerfulness. When 
the scene shifts from city risks to the broad field of mining 
camp speculations, we see the beginning of the end, for here 
the “rogue’s conscience ’’ commenced to work, and a double 
reformation ends the book in a blaze of glory. The story has 
just enough seriousness to give it balance, but by no means 
enough to destroy the pleasantly light and entertaining 
quality of the book . — Literary World. 

David Christie Murray has written an amusing tale of two 
unworthies in “A Rogue’s Conscience.” “ If you want to en- 
lighten a rogue’s conscience, serve him as he served other 
people — rob him,’’ observes the “ hero,” who has acquired 
the “ sixth sense of honesty.” How he arrived at this sage 
conclusion, and how he put the principle into effect, all tend 
toward the live human interest of a story which shows no 
sign of lagging from beginning to end. The tale is not free 
from tragedy, but even the sombre parts are handled easily 
and lightly, as though the author believed them necessary, 
but yet felt freer in the atmosphere of almost light-hearted 
roguery which pervades most of the volume. The book is 
capital reading for a summer afternoon, and action lurks on 
every page.— 


A t all booksellers or will be sent, 
prepaid, upon receipt of price by 


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A Man^ s Undoing 


By Mrs. H. LOVETT CAMERON 

333 ^ 5> Cloth, j stampings, $i.oo. 


A retired English officer, returned to his widowed mother's 
quiet home in the country, finds his undoing in idleness, 
which leads him into a flirtation with a girl socially and in- 
tellectually his inferior, but who is clever enough to force 
marriage upon him. Then complications thicken, as the 
man discovers the full meaning of his fatal mistake. 

— The Mail and Express. 

“A Man’s Undoing” is an exceptionally good novel by 
Mrs. H. Lovett Cameron. It is not written to tickle the 
palate of the sated reader who is looking only for new sensa- 
tions, nor is it intended to amuse for a short hour, it preaches 
no new doctrine ; it presents no novelties of character or in- 
cident. Its theme is as old as humanity — the burden of story 
and song through all the ages. But Mrs. Cameron shows that 
it has lost none of its interest, that its phases may be pre- 
sented in new aspects, that the conventionalities of modern 
civilization have not made it less a force in the affairs of 
men, nor obliterated any of its eternal truths. Its influence 
over the Jives of men and women varies in extent and re- 
sults, as the men and women vary in character, subject 
always to variations of condition and environment: there- 
fore it always presents new studies. All the world loves 
a lover, and no one knows better than Mrs. Cameron how to 
make a lover most interesting. Especially skillful is she in 
her delineations of women wffio love. She paints other women 
also to fill out her pictures — the narrow-minded old maids and 
the gossipy matrons, and none of her women are repellingly 
bad — but her women who love have all the nobility and 
strength of womanhood. As she deals with noble character, 
30 she deals with the serious affairs of life, of strong emo- 
tions. of heart histories, with all their heroism and pathos. 
‘‘A Man’s Undoing” is admirably constructed. Its lessons 
will not be lost upon the thoughtful, and it will be read with 
eager interest by all classes of novel readers.. 

— Bookseller, Newsdealer and Stationer^ 


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A Splendid Sin 


By GRANT ALLEN 

V3 7%^5i Clothe Three Stampings^ $i.oc 

The title of this book implies audacity, and in this it is 
true to its teachings. Mr. Allen’s independent line of thought 
was never more clearly defined, and the ‘ ‘ splendor’* of the 
sin really takes our breath away. Mr. Allen was always 
perfectly frank about pot boiling, and therefore took some 
ground from his critic, but he never lost his power to tell an 
entertaining story, no matter how startling or improbable it 
was, nor with what rapidity he dashed it off. “ The Woman 
Who Did’ ’ was a difficult heroine to accept, but even she is 
mild compared to Mrs. Bgremont’s achievements in the line 
of independent action in “A Splendid Sin.” It w’ould be a 
pity to take the zest from the reader by outlining the plot, 
whose chief charm lies in its surprises. Sufficient to say that 
here is a problem novel with a vengeance, and the spectacle 
of an illegitimate son ordering his mother’s lawful husband 
out of her house in righteous indignation at his existence is 
an example of advanced thought rarely met with in every- 
day life. — The Commercial Advertiser^ Nov. i8, 1899. 

“A Splendid Sin,” by Grant Allen, has just been pub- 
lished by F. M. Buckles & Co. It is one of the latest works 
written by the noted author, of whose untimely death we 
have just learned. It will be treasured as one of his best 
novels by the large number of readers who peruse with inter- 
est all productions from his pen. It is a study of an act 
which is universally condemned as a sin. Not in itself as a 
saving power, but its disclosure comes to an illegitimate son 
as a blessing, making a happy marriage possible, and saving 
all concerned from disgrace and misery. Even the sin itself 
is made to appear lovely and proper in comparison with that 
3ther sin which the world readily excuses, namely, the forc- 
ing of a marriage where there is no true love or mutual re- 
spect. It is a story to please by its plot and action and char- 
acter drawing, and also to set one thinking upon some of the 
serious problems of life. 

— ‘Evening Telegram^ N, K., Nov. 9, 1899 

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Hagar of the Pawn-Shop 


By FERGUS HUME, 

2g6 pages y size Clotby j stampings y $1,00* 

Those who like detective stories will get much enjoy- 
ment out of the ten in this book, which have connection 
enough to give them a certain continuity. Hagar, a gypsy 
girl, has a wonderful personality, great shrewdness, penetra- 
tion, and judgment, beside being very handsome, dignified 
and self-respecting. There are ten different customers, each 
of whom brings some peculiar article to pawn, and the article 
has a story of its own, or a very strange mystery. She 
unravels the mystery, brings criminals to tlieir punishment, 
and restores fortunes. It is all cleverly done, and Hagar’s 
sagacity is something to be admired. The author is Fergus 
Hume . — Literary Worlds Nov. 25. 

Hagar Stanley, a gypsy, and niece of the dead wife of a . 
miserly old London pawnbroker, is driven by the unwelcome 
attentions of a gypsy half-breed suitor to flee from her tribe 
in the New Forest. She takes refuge with old Jacob Dix, 
the pawnbroker, who, before his death, is trapped by a cheap 
lawyer into trying unsuccessfully to disinherit his son in favor 
of Hagar, who defeats the plot, only to discover that the 
son is the man who drove her from the gypsy tribe. The 
adventures of the two form the material for Mr. Hume’s new 
story . — The Mail and Express y Oct. 26. 

This is a volume of detective stories by Fergus Hume^ 
whose “Mystery of a Hansom Cab” w'll be recalled as a 
clever bit of writing. Between “The Coming of Hagar*' 
and “The Passing of Hagar” are grouped ten stories, each 
bearing a separate interest, but each linked together so that 
they follow in natural order. Hagar is an interesting young 
Gypsy who comes into charge of a pawn-shop of very doubt- 
ful character in a somewhat unusual way. Her adventures 
and those of her customers are entertaining and lively and 
the tales are of a stirring character. When Conan Doyle, 
with Sherlock Holmes, lifted detective stories to a higher 
plane than they had occupied since the days of Edgar Allen 
Poe, he opened the way for other writers to explore the field. 
Fergus Hume has done so with much success 5 and the present 
volume is sure of a numerous clientage among those whc 
like the bizarre in fiction. — American, 

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F. M. BUCKLES & COMP AN V 
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A Rational Marriage 


By FLORENCE MARRTAT 

2g6 Pages ^ Size 7% x 5 , Cloihy Ink and Goldy 


A Rational Marriapre is the title of the book, which is Florence 
Marryat’s latest contribution to her circle of readers. It belongs to 
that class of light literature which is enjoyed by those who read only 
for the pleasure of the hour, and will, doubtless, meet with approval 
from the novel reading public. 

The story is of a young woman of rather Bohemian proclivities who 
lives in a flat and acts as secretary to an elderly nobleman. She has 
“ expectations” from her grandfather, but only in the event of her re- 
maining single, as the old gentleman has decided dislike for matrimony. 

How it all turned out may be gathered from the book which comes 
from the publishing house of F. M. Buckles & Co., New York. 

— Toledo Blade^ Feb. 8. 

The late Florence Marryat had a fine appreciation of a humorous 
situation, and she used it to good purpose in this story, which is based 
on a clandestine marriage. When rooms are reserved at a certain place 
for ‘‘Mr. and Mrs. Smith,” and two couples answering to that name 
make their simultaneous appearance, there is apt to be some explain- 
ing necessary. The embarassments resulting from hasty marriages, 
in which there is an object in preserving secrecy has been the theme 
of both novelist and playwright, but the lamented author of this vol- 
ume has succeeded in extracting about all the humor and aggravation 
that can be found in the situation. Fancy a man having to play a 
game of freeze-out with his own wife as the attraction, and yet not 
daring to acknowledge the relationship ! And the fact that the man is 
a journalist makes it all the more enjoyable. 

The volume is a handsome one, the cover design being particularly 
attractive . — Rochester Herald^ Feb. 9. 

” A Rational Ma-nage,” by the late Florence Marryat, daug:hter 
of the famous Captain Marryat, is not a strong story, but it was written 
with a praiseworthy purpose that shines forth from every page. The 
purpose is to show the magic power of love. A clever, independent 
young women, who has formed her own conclusions regarding matri- 
mony, and a bright young newspaper man enter into a marriage 
agreement with the understanding that everything is to ^o on exactly 
as before the ceremony. The young man agrees because it is the only 
way to secure her, and they are united by a magistrate. Then follow 
complications ; uneasy days and sleepless nights, and all the woes pos- 
sible to those who, reckoning, without love, enter the matrimonial .state 
After a judicious amount of trial and tribulations the clouds break 
away for a bright and satisfactory ending. A few contrasting ex- 
amples of conjugal bliss and single unhappiness are thrown in quite 
effectively.— Tribune, 

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F. M. BUCKLES & COMPANY 

g-il East j6th Street, New fork 


Terence 


By MRS. B. M. CROKER 

J20 Pages ^ 2 % ^ 5 * Clothe Ink and Gold, $1.2^. 

It may be trnthf ally said that the story goes with a rattle from the 
moment .vl aureen takes charge of the runaway horses till the time 
when the hero tells her his love and finds the ri^ht answer to be 
ready on her lips. The dialogue and characterization deserve a 
special word of acknowledgment and thanks.— London Literary 
World. 

Mrs. Croker has given us an Irish story of the right sort — mettle- 
some and vivacious, and sparkling with the characteristic humor of 
the country. . . . The story is interesting from beginning to end, 
a ad it is sure to be widely VQdA.— Glasgow Herald. 

There is a freshness, brightness, and charm which make it such a 
story as, when ended, is laid down with the wish that there had been 
more of it. — Scotsman. 

A brightly written story. — Daily Chronicle. 

Told with a full measure of Mrs. Croker’s vivacity and humor. 
— Spectator. 

An Australian girl, of semi-Irish blood, and an Irishman whom, 
though he is driving a public coach, we readily recognize as a gentle- 
]nan, furnish Mrs. Croker the necessary elements of a love story, set 
j a a brisk tale, full of movement, and the sunny Celtic character.— 
l.Ictil and Express, Feb. 19. 

‘ Terence," by Mrs. B. M. Croker, is one of liveliest novels that she 
has written. The characters are sharply drawn, and every one of 
them is worthy of a permanent place in fiction. The dialogue is 
bright and charming, and all of the incidents are entertaining— some 
of them thrilling. The London Literary World says : “ The story 
goes with a rattle from the moment when Maureen takes charge of 
the runaway horses till the time when the hero tells her his love and 
finds the right answer to be ready on her lips. Terence earned his 
living by driving a coach, but even the least sagacious reader of these 
chapters will quickly decide that his birth was superior to his occu- 
pation, and will guess that Mrs. Croker has waiting in the back- 
ground a splendid silver lining for the cloud overhanging him in the 
early portions of her novel. Maureen was an unsophisticated girl 
from Australia who fully believed with Tennyson that kind hearts 
are more than coronets. Because she was wealthy, Terence, though 
he worshipped her with all the zeal and fervor at his command, felt 
himself compelled to keep silence. But Mrs. Croker and Cupid plotted 
against him so successfully that in the end Australia and Ireland 
make a union at the altar."— LoofcseKer, Newsdealer and Stationer, 
Feb. 15. 

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The Greatest Gift 


By A. W. MARCHMONr 

$45 Po,ges, Size 7% x Cloth, Ink aad Gold, $1.2^, 


“The Greatest Gift” opens with a ghastly tragedy. A man who 
hii just succeeded to a fortune returns home to hud that his wife has 
become insane, and in a paroxysm of madness has thrown their only 
child out of the window. He lives, but grows up deformed, both in 
miud and body, with one dominating passion — love for his cousin 
Margery. Out of love and gratitude to her uncle, the girl promises to 
marry her cousin. From this unnatural stale of things the author is, 
of course, bound to rescue his heroine and he does. The enterprising 
journalist, who has to act as amateur detective, and the wily widow, 
who will persist in trying to marry him, the coy maiden, and the bold 
adventure.ss, all have their parts to play in bringing about the denoue- 
ment. The author shows ingenuity in handling his plot, and there is 
enough love, mystery, and tragedy to satisfy the most exacting lover 
of an exciting tale. — IVa^hingion Post. 

Those e.stimable persons who object to psychological subtleties 
and merely literary fripperies are commended to “The Greatest Gift,” 
by A. W. Marchmont. In this volume the characters are up and doing 
from the initial paragraph. . . . How he does it, we shall leave the 
reader to find out, with the assurance that the author shows much in- 
genuity in the handling of his plot, and here is enough love, mystery, 
and tragedy to satisfy the most exacting lover of an exciting tale. 

— N,Y, Evening Telegram, 

A. W. Marchmont is a clever writer of light, or ephemeral fiction. 
His touch is delicate, his insight keen and his imagination bright. His 
skill was never so well displayed as in “A Dash for a Throne,” but 
here we find him congeniall5' employed. — Detroit Journal. 

“The Greatest Gift,” by A. W. Marchmont, is in its theme quite un- 
like the author’s previous novels, but though it has nothing to do with 
thrones and swords, and its passions and tragedies are those of people 
who live in ordinary English homes and are unknown to hi.story, they 
are treated in the same masterful manner as those of the author’s 
characters of higher rank. Undoubtedly, too, they will please quite as 
large a circle of readers. . . . The novel involves several charming love 
stories and several others that are not so charming but are certainly 
entertaining. — Bookseller and Stationer, 


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V 


r 

In Londons Heart 


By GEORGE R. SIMS 

' 435 ^ 5 » Cloth, Ink and Gold, $1.25 

George R. Sim’s name is associated with melodrama, and in his Iare?;i 
»»ovel, “ In London’s Heart,” the melodramatic element is decidedly to 
the fore, though lovers of exciting fiction — of stories where struggling 
human nature and bad, bad villains produce hairbreadrh scenes — will find 

It made up of absorbing materials. The hero is Stephen Alison, a ticket- 

of-leave-man, etc., etc., whose sentence was scarcely the result of his own 
crime, and who is anxious, like so many of his own class from poor Bob 
Brierly downwards, to lead a new life. The desire to sever himself from 
his old associates is not so easy to accomplish, and gradually he falls into 

bad company again. Having no money, he agrees with some old con* 

federates to accompany a dissipated young nobleman abroad, with the inten- 
tion of killing him and then claiming the insurance money which the 
sharpers have already got the victim to assign to them. But before this 
delightful little scheme can be set actually working, the nobleman is mur- 
dered at his house in Grosvenor place, and suspicion falls on Stephen. The 
rest of the book is a triumphant effort to clear Stephen, and everybody is 
finally punished or rewarded in due measure. — Albany Argus, 

<‘In London’s Heart,** by George R. Sims, is the story of an English 
“ ticket-of-leave ” convict, who was desirous of living a new life, but 
found it difficult to get away from his old associates. He returns to his old 
ways, but by an astonishing incident becomes a millionaire. From that 
time on the ston; becomes highly sensational, and the reader who wants 
“♦■hrilling excitein^int * * gets it in liberal measure. — Clc'v eland Plaindealer. 

“In London® Heart,’* by George R. Sims, is another proof of this 
author’s power to write a good melodramatic story. It is full of trouble 
and struggle, plotting and mystery, critical situations and stirring incidents. 
Moreover, it is coherent and readable and will prove popular with readers of 
adventurous fiction. — Rochester Democrat and Chronicle. 

To begin with a gentlemen who is also a ticket-of-leave man and end 
ap with the same gentleman in his brother’s place as a millionaire after a 
series of the most alarming and sensational adventures is George R. Sims’ 
way of telling “Tn London’s Heart.” The stoiy is a rattle»o It isn’t 
exactly a detective or mystery story ; but it is the good old melodrama of 
an earlier day brought into the present age for its entertainment, if not its 
edification. There is a detective, of course, but he is friendly to the 
gentleman-criminal, instead of being a mere sleuth, and the book contain^ 
other novel features //hich are enough to delight a varied and youth/b 
audience. — Chicago h^ening Post, 

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. F. M. BUCKLES & COMPANY 

g-ii East 1 6th Street, New York 


A Ward of the King 


{An Historical Romance'^ 

By KATHARINE S. MACSnJQID 

328 pages ^ size 7^ xs. Cloth, Ink and Gold, $i 23 

This is a story of the times of the great Constable of 
Bourbon. Jeanne d’Acignd is married when a child to ihe 
Comte de Laval. Adventures and the clash of steel are 
things masculine, and the woman cannot put enough muscle 
into her hard knocks. But perhaps for this very reason it 
may be commended to those gentler souls who shrink from 
blood and wounds ; and it may be also commended to those 
who are charmed by a singularly refined and feminine style 
for its own gracious sake. — London Literary World. 

“ A Ward of the King” is a romance of the time of the 
Bourbon kings. The heroine is the only child of the Count 
d’Acignd, dead when the story opens ; the heroes, the Count 
of Laval, whom she marries at thirteen at the command of 
the King and her friend and unknown lover, Roland, the 
heir of the Vicomte d’Orbec— both noble men in truth. 
The cousin of the Count of Laval, Etienne de Retz, conceived 
a passion for the Countess Laval on her wedding day. This 
leads to the intrigue about which the story, full of life and 
fire, centers. — The Outlook. 

Miss Katharine S. Macquoid in her new book, ” A Ward 
of the King,” has departed somewhat from the usual rule of 
romance writers. She has taken for the centre figure of the 
story a woman instead of a swaggering man. This notion, 
however, must be commended by the excellent manner in 
which the authoress has transcribed it. — Boston Cornier, 

With the present widespread popularity of, and interest 
in the historical romance, Katharine Macquoid’s “A Ward 
^of the King” is sure of a hearing. The tale is worthy of the 
*encomiums which are being bestowed upon it. The story is 
of the Great Constable of Bourbon ; its scenes and its times 
readily lend themselves to the play of the romantic incident 
and the weaving of skilful plots. The story is marked by a' 
style of singular refinement. — American, Nov. 16. 

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A Rise in the World 


By ADELINE SERGEANT 

377 7 %xSy Cloth, ink and gold, $ 1 , 25 , 

Miss Sergeant’s new novel has not “Adam Grigson’s” right 
to consideration, though it is not without a certain interest 
for the reader who has jmst laid down the latter book. The 
heroine of “A Rise in the World” is a little household 
drudge, kind hearted, good and unselfish, but untaught and 
illiterate as any other London “slavey.” We do not say 
that it would be impossible for this girl to reach a high place 
in English society within an absurdly short time, but it must 
be admitted that the transition as described by Miss Sergeant 
is not convincing. A man’s a man fora’ that, but training, or 
the lack of it, and the human being’s evironment must count, 
so that it is not easy to accept as a probable personage the 
cockney servant who becomes a beautiful peeress and charm- 
ing woman of the world with such startling rapidity. — N^ Y. 
Tribune. 

In “A Rise in the World” (Buckles) Adeline Sergeant 
outdoes Laura Jean Libbey in her efforts to bring her heroine 
from the lowliest walks of life to the height of the social 
world. She makes the poor girl, who is a nursery maid, 
awk.rard, stupid, stubborn, and untidy, only granting her 
the graces of a kind heart and a sensible name, Elizabeth. 
Of course, the hand of every man is against Elizabeth as she 
struggles to make herself worthy of the position to which 
marriage with a gentleman has raised her ; but in time, by 
the tender guidance of the rash young man’s unworldly 
mother, the girl becomes a marvel of feminine attractive- 
ness. One by one her enemies are laid low and she forgives 
them all. The story is not quite so melodramatic as those 
of its kind usually are. The noteworthy thing about it is 
the ease with which the author removes immovable obstacles. 
— Chicago Tribune 

Readers of this interesting picture of London society will 
perhaps be impressed by the unevenness of its literary merit. 
Some of the scenes are capitally done ; others seem hurriedly 
sketched, but the author’s style is always femininely incisive. 
Despite a few seeming improbabilities in plot, the story as a 
whole is one which has in it an inevitable attractiveness, as 
do all accounts of real rises and progresses in the world.— => 
The Outlook, 

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Comrades True 


By ANNIE THOMAS 

354 size y% x Cloth, ink and goldy 

^ This novel is nothing if not up to date, and if its publica- 
tion had only been delayed a month the fall of Tientsin 
would in all probability have figured largely in the closing 
pages. The name is all right as far as a certain portion of 
the characters go, but the rest of them are about as untrue 
to each other as one could possibly imagine, and the readers 
will make a great mistake if they imagine those who are en- 
gaged to be married in the early part of the book have any 
real intention of actually marrying. For those who like to 
have their fiction people live, move, and have their being 
amid the toil and trouble of everyday life, this story will, 
without doubt, appeal strongly. The Knglish — well, that 
does not matter so much in books of this class, and 
the action is so rapid and vividly realistic that one un- 
consciously overlooks any little mistakes which the author 
may have committed in her desire to get the book complete 
before the war in Africa was finished. — Phila. Telegraph. 

“ Comrades True’^ is a wide-reaching romance. The list 
includes impecunious comrades —not well-mated comrades — 
divorced and wanted-to-be-divorced comrades, and their in- 
felicities are heard all the way from London to South Africa 
on sea and land. The reader will ever find it difficult with- 
out tabbing to keep an account of the divorce mill. The 
parties in each contest are remarkably serene, and behind 
each some other man or woman appears in sight to enable 
“Comrades True** to bear a separation with equanimity. 
The London Literary World, in noticing the book, says : It 
cannot be complained that ‘'Comrades True** is not up co 
date. The Boers, the imperial volunteers, wounds, and 
nurses play a large part in it, and the author delivers herself 
of plenty of such correct, if rash Saxon sentiments as ‘ I’d 
like to face a hundred Boers single-handed this minute, and 
how them what an Englishman can do when his blood is up 
at insults offered to our Queen and country.’* The story has 
life and movement, and seems to be in line, and does not 
comprehend the connubial infelicities which are threatening 
the happy home life of the ^ox\A..r-Chicago Inter-Ocean^ 

At all booksellers or will he sent, 
prepaid, upon receipt of price by 

F, M. BUCKLES & COMPANY 

g-ii East i6th Street, New York 


The Plain Miss Cray 


By FLORENCE WARDEN 

j2y pages ^ size 7 >^^5, Cloth, ink and gold, $1.2^. 

A novel without any aim but that of entertaining, which 
it does to perfection. A match-making mother, a beautifu? 
daughter and a plain one, a poor wooer for the pretty girl 
who is sent about his business by the worldly mater, to be 
recalled when her dreams prove unrealizable, and a brilliant 
match for the plain Miss Cray — this is the slight plot of an 
unpretentious, readable tale . — Mail and Express, 

A healthy story of the good, old-fashioned type ; interest- 
ing without being unhealthily exciting To every cloud there 
is a silver lining, and catastrophes only threaten, never hap- 
pen. The characters are normal and their lives natural. A 
pleasant relief from the intense problem novel, — Philadel- 
phia Telegraph, 

After a careful study of the history of humor from the 
time of Noah to the Sunday comic supplements, Mark Twain 
declared that there were really only thirty-nine genuine 
original jokes as the sum total of human effort in that direc- 
tion. A study of the novels of the year justifies the assertion 
that there are only two kinds of novels — those in which 
everything ends all right and everybody is happy and those 
in which everything is all wrong and nobody is happy. Of 
this latter class of novels we have had a surfeit recently, and 
can afford to thank Miss Warden for turning back into the 
paths of optimism, of cheerfulness and peace, as she does in 
“The Plain Miss Cray .** — New York World, 

“A novel in which poetical justice is fearlessly dealt out,’* 
a writer in the London Literary World humorously remarks, 

“ has become almost a thing of the past.*’ For those who 
have found this a hardship “The Plain Miss Cray,” by 
Florence Warden (F. M. Buckles & Company), will doubt- 
lessly appeal. It is perhaps enough for the intending reader 
to know that the heroine whose name figures in the title of 
the book, triumphs over the villain and her prettier rivals with 
ease. Those who “get enough of life as it is’’ and want 
something else in their fiction can obviously take up this 
volume with confidence. — N, Y, Evening Telegram, \ 

At all booksellers or will be sent, 
postpaid, upon receipt of price by 

F. M. BUCKLES & COMPANY 

g-ii East i 6 th Street-, New York 


V %nity 


THE CONFESSIONS OF A COURT MODISTE 

By ‘^RITA^^ 

282 pages y size yYz ^5, Ink and Gold, $1.2^ 

A court modiste makes confession in this bright book 
by one who conceals herself as ‘ ‘ Rita.” We are introduced 
to the modiste at once and find her on the verge of bank- 
ruptcy when an Irishman arrives in London from Paris. 
The rich American wearing diamonds as big as hickory nuts 
with her man-hunting daughter are given the benefit of a 
dressing down. There is a comedy side to the story that 
has not been neglected. — Detroit JournaU 

Another of the new society novels is “Vanity,” by 
“ Rita,” which is a bright and pleasing volume. The story 
is cleverly told by a court modiste who had abundant oppor- 
tunities to see behind the curtains of English aristocratic 
life. She draws a picture of immoralities, jealousies, false- 
ness and bickering. The story is full of such incidents as 
scenes at the London restaurants, where “emancipated 
women ” sup with kindred souls while their husbands are 
elsewhere engaged, and doings at country houses where 
society conventionalities are laid aside, and there is the 
freedom of “ Liberty Hall.*’ — Buffalo Express, 

‘‘Vanity,” by “Rita,” affords a glimpse of shoddy 
fashionable life. The reader gets a peep behind the scenes 
of fashionable life in “Vanity.” The rather pathetic court 
dresser, through whose eyes we see the fashionable world, is 
forced by necessity to cater to “smart** people. They so 
run to credit, however, that the dressmaker would have 
been ruined were it not for an Irishman of taste and wealth 
who goes into partnership with her. Pathos and comedy, 
with a dash of tragedy, are judiciously combined into a 
breezy story. — Chicago Times Herald. 

“ Vanity,** the confessions of a court modiste, by “Rita,” 
deals daringly with the fashionable life of London. The 
comedy of the story is made all the more enjoyable by 
occasional episodes of real pathos. — Albany Argus, 

At all booksellers or *will be sent, 
postpaid, upon receipt of price by 

F. M. BUCKLES & COMP ANT 

g-il East j6th Street, New York 


The Mysterious Burglar 


By GEO. E. WALSH 

247 pages y size 7% X4‘ii, Ink and Goldy $1,25 

“The Mysterious Burglar** is a first-rate detective story, 

— Chicago Record- Herald, 

“ The Mysterious Burglar’* is a very good story. The 
mystery is cleverly handled to the end and is a thoroughly 
up-to-date tale. — Toledo Blade, 

Mr. Walsh is a bright story-teller. 

— New Haven Courier Journal, 

It is a peculiar and and intensely interesting story, 

— Cleveland Recorder, 

It is an exceptionally good story. From the outset it is in- 
teresting, and the plot is so well handled that surprises are 
as constant as in the life of a burglar himself. 

— Philadelphia Telegraph* 

“ The Mysterious Burglar,” which appears in the list of 
the best selling books, is said to be founded upon fact. As a 
study of modern criminology in the guise of fiction, it is 
certainly worth perusal. — New York Journal. 

“The Mysterious Burglar,” by George B- Walsh, recently 
published by F. M. Buckles & Co., is now in its third 
edition. Many letters asking about the possibilities of 
hypnotism described in the book, and, in particular, if there 
is any foundation in fact for the story, have been received 
by the author.— New York Times, 

A story more singular has seldom been written and the 
conception is daring in the extreme. The plot is puzzling, 
and as the various mysteries unravel the reader is shocked 
and surprised. The iniquity has its daily parallel, however, 
and taking it as a whole, the author has been successful in 
producing a really admirable work. 

— Albany Times Union, 

At all booksellers or ivill be sent, 
postpaid, upon receipt of price by 

F. M. BUCKLES fsf COMPANY 

y-ii East i6th Street, New York 


My Lady* s Diamond* s 


By ADELINE SERGEANT 

ji 6 pages y size x cloth. Ink and Goldy $1.2$ 

“ My Lady’s Diamonds,” by Adeline Sergeant. This story 
proceeds on somewhat familiar lines, but the incidents are 
of such a startling, sensational description that they permit 
the reader little opportunity for critical reflection until the 
last page is reached. In the first place Lady Rockingham’s 
diamonds are stolen, and suspicion is cast by the old device 
of a purloined clock on Joan Carrington, the daughter of an 
old friend who is staying with her. Even Geoffrey Brandon, 
Joan’s lover, believes the unfounded accusation, for did he 
not one evening see Joan in her familiar dark-blue cloak, 
with the rose-colored lining, hand over the diamonds to a 
tall, sinister-looking individual with a long black moustache 
curled up at the points, amid the ruins of a neighboring 
castle ? With lover-like obtuseness he acquaints Joan with 
the condemnatory evidence he has in his possession, and 
naturally she is all aflame at the want of confidence he shows 
in her. There is also staying with Lady Rockingham a 
quiet, dove-like creature, Nina Townley, who in a few 
effective touches contrives to accentuate the situation. The 
remainder of the narrative is taken up with Geoffrey’s 
efforts to clear up the mystery of the diamonds and discover 
the real perpetrator of the robbery, for with Joan’s indig- 
nant denial all his old belief in her goodness, purity, etc., 
returns. It can hardly be said that he is a heaven-born 
detective, but by sticking unflinchingly to his task, and 
showing no little courage and energy, he manages at last to 
fasten the crime on the right parties, and the curtain falls on 
general apologies to poor Joan for the pain that has been 
caused her. ^ The story is a very good specimen of its class, 
and the incidents, while never completely outraging the 
limits of probability, are of such a description as thoroughly 
to absorb the reader’s attention. — Publishers' Circular. 

At all booksellers or will be sentj 
postpaid^ upon receipt of price by 

F. M. BUCKLES ^ COMPANY 

ig-ii East i6th Street y New York 


The Millionaire Mystery 


By FERGUS HUME 

2^^ pages ^ size 7}ixy^ Clothe Ink and Gold^ $1*25 

“The Millionaire Mystery” is another good story by 
Fergus Hume, author of “ The Mystery of a Handsome Cab,*' 
Those who have been entertained by Mr. Hume’s previous 
books will find this an equally entertaining story, which will 
beguile away a leisure hour or two very satisfactorily. The 
mystery in this story is unraveled without becoming tiresome. 
It is not an unwieldy or profound mystery which requires 
deep concentration to apprehend. It is just enough of a 
mystery to wet the reader’s appetite and hold the attention 
until the story is finished, which is an achievement that many 
writers of fiction fail to accomplish. Mr. Hume has not 
entered a new and original field. He depicts his situations 
with perspicacity and vigor, and with a touch of enthusiasm 
here and there, and the dramatic situations are worked up 
most cleverly. — New Haven Courier Journal, 

Fergus Hume needs no introduction as a writer of stories 
which are worth reading if one likes mystery, romance and 
no higher purpose than entertaining by a good story. His 
*‘The Mystery of a Handsome Cab** showed his ability to 
handle and develop a mystery. “ The Millionaire Mystery ** 
shows the same quality, and with a number of interesting 
characters moving in an interesting plot is a decidely read- 
able story. — Indianopolis Journal, 

This is the day of the detective story. There is never 
enough good literature of the sort to satisfy the demand. 
Mr. Fergus Hume, who first won fame by “ The Mystery of 
a Hansom Cab,” has written others, and his latest is “The 
Millionaire Mystery,” from the press of F. M. Buckles & Co. 
This is a good story and somewhat out of the ordinary run. 
The reader is not constantly run up against a stone wall and 
kept in the dark until the last moment. Rather he is allowed 
to see the gradual unraveling of the mystery, though there 
are some surprises in the course of the narrative, which is 
exceedingly well told. — The Philadelphia Inquirer, 

At all booksellers or will he sent^ 
postpaid^ upon receipt of price by 

F. M. BUCKLES & COMPANY 

g-ii East i6tk Street, New York 


The Conquest of London 


By DOROTHEA GERARD 

J2I pages ^ size 7^ jrj, Cloth, Ink, Gold, $1^25 

Dorothea Gerard writes stories which are bright and 
interesting without being particularly strong or aiming at 
anything beyond pleasant entertainment. “The Conquest 
of London “ is not an historical novel, as the name might 
imply. It relates the experiences of four nice English girls, 
sisters, who having been brought up in an out-of-the-way 
place and inherited a small sum of money, went to London 
to see something of society. Out of these commonplace 
materials the author makes quite a readable story. 

— Indianapolis Journal. 

“The Conquest of London,” by Dorothea Gerard, re- 
lates the adventures of four orphan girls between fifteen and 
twenty, who live upon the modest income of one hundred 
and twenty pounds a year in a little cottage at Gil ham, 
miles from a neighboring village. After many severe strug- 
gles things shape themselves right in the end and everything 
has a happy finish. The book is brightly written, a pretty 
little story which will be certain to find favor with the 
readers. — Albany Times Union. 

This is a healthy novel of the entertaining type, a 
capital story of the adventures of four sisters who are left in 
a village well nigh penniless. An uncle leaves them a thou- 
sand pounds apiece, with which they go to London and see 
social life — as long as their money lasts. They get through 
with it speedily and are forced to return to their village 
home. There they see some bitter days, but all ends 
happily by the oldest sister’s marriage to a rich man of the 
neighborhood. — Louisville Courier Journal. 

Dorothea Gerard is the famous authoress of “A For- 
gotten Sin,” “The Impediment,” etc., but in this later 
work — “The Conquest of London” — she has brought forth 
a masterpiece which will make this famous English author- 
ess a world-wide reputation as a writer of fiction. 

— Southern Star. 


At all booksellers or *will be sent, 
postpaid, upon receipt of price by 

F. M. BUCKLES & COMP A NT 

p-77 East j6tb Street, New York 


Daunay" s Tower 


By ADELINE SERGEANT 

40^ pages y size Cloth y Ink and Goldy $1.2^ 

In certain passages suggestive of “ Kast Lynne/’ in 
others recalling “Jane Byre/’ and in plot remindful of 
Wilkie Collins* ingenious contrivances, “Daunay’s Tower** 
appears as a late exponent of that school of fiction which 
delighted the novel readers of a quarter of a century ago. — 
Chicago Record. 

“ Daunay’s Tower,” by Adeline Sergeant, is a novel of 
exceptional power and merit. The plot is skilfully woven 
out of somewhat unpromising material, and the air of 
improbability which marks the opening chapter soon van- 
ishes and gives place to the natural and easily possible. 
The leading characters are not only distinct and well drawn, 
but are more completely drawn than is often the case in the 
light novel 5 the literary style is not that of the space writer. 
The subordinate characters are all natural — not lay figures. 
— Philadelphia Telegraph. 

Though based on a rather improbable foundation, Miss 
Adeline Sergeant’s new novel shows no falling off in regard 
to vigor and imagination and deserves to be welcomed as a 
more than ordinary piece of fiction. The pathos of the 
situations is tenderly drawn, and the heroine holds the 
interest and sympathy of the reader. — Albany Times Union. 

This is a forceful and interesting novel. It has a com- 
bination of incident and movement that gives it an attract- 
iveness that more than compensates for infelicities of 
expression and a certain clumsiness in the handling of the 
plot. — Baltimore Sun. 

Adeline Sergeant gives to us a good, vigorous romance 
in “ Daunay’s Tower” — just the sort of book to be a royal 
companion for a summer afternoon. — American. 

At all booksellers or *will be senty 
postpaidy upon receipt of price by 

F. M. BUCKLES & COMPANY 
g-li East 1 6th Street, New York 


A Traitor in London 


By FERGUS HUME 

355 7^A^5y Goldy $ 1 . 2 ^ 

Fergus Hume needs no introduction as a writer of stories 
which are worth reading, especially if you like a mixture of 
love, danger, and mystery ; and the author of “The Mystery 
of a Hansom Cab’* there showed his ability to handle well 
the latter element in fiction. 

His latest novel is entitled ‘‘A Traitor in London,” and 
he has seized upon the recently uppermost theme in the 
public mind — the Boer war. 

The mystery is well handled to the end, the characters 
are very natural people and politics in England and real 
campaigning in South Africa are introduced in order. “A 
Traitor in London** is a clever story, entertaining throughout, 
and well sustains the author’s reputation. — Boston Times* 

Mr. Hume has within the last five years placed himself 
in the same class with Dr. Doyle as a writer of detective 
stories. He has developed the detective instinct and is able 
to weave about his plot a tangle of intricate and confusing 
incidents which leave the reader altogether in the dark until 
the author chooses to turn the limelight upon his own 
mystery. In the present work Mr. Hume deals with the 
exciting scenes in London just previous to the outbreak of 
the Boer war, and despite his intensely pro-British sentiment 
he has made a book which will interest all lovers of this 
character of fiction. — Indianapolis Sentinel. 

Fergus Hume has written a good romance in which the 
Boer war plays an important part. A Boer spy and his 
machinations open the story. His cunning and effrontery 
mark him out as a strong character. He is not so zealous 
in the pursuit of his country’s interests as in the winning of 
a young lady who loves another. 

Murder and myster3r puzzle the reader, and there arc 
many surprises. — Louisville Courier-Joumal. 

The mystery of the story is a murder committed in 
England, and it is a mystery which puzzles the reader to the 
end, ingeniously leading the reader from one guess to 
another, and finally affording a real sui^rise. The novel 
is one to please all classes of readers. — Pittsburgh Press. 

At 'fll booksellers or *will he senty 
postpaidy upon receipt of price by 

F. M. BUCKLES & COMPANY 

g-il East i6th Street, New Tori 


T’he Luck of a Lowland Laddie 


By MAT CROMMELIN 

319 pages, size Cloth. Ink and Gold, $1.23 

May Crommelin’s story of “The Luck of a Lowland 
Laddie** is a bright, pretty and thoroughly readable love 
story. The hero owes his luck to the fact of his being the 
seventh son of a seventh son, and every seven years some 
stroke of fortune increases his happiness. His life is 
sketched from the moment of his birth. He is poor, and, of 
course, has a charming sweetheart — and what would a story 
like this be if, with the same inevitableness, he did not find 
a will bequeathing to him vast estates. Then the will is 
stolen, and Jock goes out to Peru to work for Elsie and in- 
cidently to have an exciting time, and some person tells her 
.^e is dead. But he comes back, and everything ends very 
liappily. — San Francisco Bulletin. 

This is another book of superior interest, unpretentious 
yet charming which merits the reader*s attention. It is a 
very pretty story, the chief charm of which, Jock Ramsay, 
is a Scottish lad who is moreover a seventh son of a seventh 
son, of whom the village oracle, an aged sybil, predicts at 
his birth a checkered and very interesting career. Jock has 
a life full of adventure in several climes. There is a charm- 
ing, lovable you lady in the story, who has Jock’s love and 
who loves him, and there is a will bequeathing him a large 
fortune, which Jock and his sweetheart discover in its mys- 
terious hiding place. Jock has a rascally brother, who, 
when Jock was supposed to be dead, causes no end of trouble 
to Jock's sweetheart and plays a desperate game. Jock wins 
at last. There is a very pretty ending to this delightful 
little story, and it is a story which one eagerly reads to the 
finish. Old and half forgotten superstitions of Scotland 
play a part in the tale. 

— New Haven Courier JoutnaL 


At all booksellers or luill be sent, 
postpaid, upon receipt of price by 

F. M. BUCKLES & CO MEANT 

g-il East i6th Street, New York 


A State Secret 


By B. M. CROKER 

j /8 pageSi size yyi Cloth, Ink and Goldy $1.2$ 

Mrs. Croker’s signature, either to a long or short story, 
has come to be generally accepted as security for a pleasant 
hour. The present series of sketches is no exception. There 
is little out of the ordinary in the experiences related in this 
book, if a certain grisly ghost story, which seems to have 
strayed into more cheerful company, be excepted. But 
whether ;he scene is in dingy lodgings in a faded Dublin 
street, among the Munster peasantry, on a Scotch moor, or 
away in an up-country Indian station, the people are very 
real. In the story which gives the title to the volume we 
meet an eccentric but very philosophical old French woman 
whose room is filled with lumber of all descriptions. She dis- 
likes exceedingly to have the apartment swept, and declares 
that she rather likes dustj “I am getting used to it,’* she 
calmly announces. “We shall all come to dust ourselves 
ere long, and what harm is the poor dust doing? We may 
be dispersing our ancestors ! ’* These sketches are brief, but 
they leave a defined impression, and one feels that it would 
be agreeable to prolong some of the acquaintances here 
made. However, as Mrs. Croker well knows, one of the 
qualities of a readable short story is that it stimulates rather 
than satisfies . — The Washington Post. 

“ A State Secret, and Other Stories,’* by B. M. Croker, is 
an excellent collection of Irish stories by a known and popu- 
lar writer. Mrs. Croker has published many novels that 
have succeeded, and have deserved to succeed, one of those 
best known being “The Real Lady Hilda,** and one of the 
best, one which has not so many readers, is called “ Beyond 
the Pale.** These stories are in the same vein as the books; 
they are the work of a writer who knows her subject, and 
has a very neat touch . It is reasonably safe to take up any- 
thing she writes with the expectation of being entertained 
and the certainty that the entertainment will not be of 
the kind one is more or levss ashamed of feeling. 

— Hartford Times. 

At all booksellers or nvill he senty 
postpaidy upon receipt of price by 

F. M. BUCKLES & COMPANr 

g-ii East i6th Street, New Tori 


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